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A 


A PRINCETON BOY 
IN THE REVOLUTION 





A Princeton Boy 
In the Revolution 

BY 

PAUL G. TOMLINSON 

w 

AUTHOR OF “the TRAIL OF TECUMSEH,” “a PRINCETON BOY 
UNDER THE KING,” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

LESLIE CRUMP 




NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
1922 



COPTKIGHT, 1922, 

By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. 



PRINTED IN THE U S A. BY 

ISitt ^ntnn Se JBoben Cotnpanp 

BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
RAHWAY NEW JERSEY 


SEP 26 ’22 

©CI.A683389 


PREFACE 


In this second volume of the series of Princeton 
stories I have, as the title indicates, endeavored 
to cover the Revolutionary period of the col- 
lege’s history. If there is not as much about 
The College of New Jersey in this book as in 
the previous volume — or as there will be in 
those to come — it is because Princeton was so 
active a seat of war at that time that the college 
was forced to suspend. The students trans- 
ferred their attention from books to fighting 
and my endeavor has been to record the doings 
of the students. 

I have drawn freely upon the excellent his- 
tories of Princeton written by Professor Var- 
num L. Collins, Mr. J ohn F. Hageman and Mr. 
Edwin M. Norris; ‘‘The History of the College 
of New Jersey,” by President John Maclean; 
“A Brief Narrative of the Ravages of the Brit- 
ish and Hessians at Princeton,” edited by Pro- 
fessor Collins ; and I have taken especial liber- 
ties with the wonderfully interesting account 


V 


PEEFACE 


of the Battle of Princeton, recently published 
by Professor Thomas J. Wertenbaker. I wish 
to acknowledge these sources. Certain inci- 
dents in the story are based upon contemporary 
accounts of incidents in the battle of Trenton 
and Princeton. Various histories of the Eevo- 
lution have also been extremely useful. It gives 
me particular pleasure to state that one of the 
most helpful of these was written by my father. 

P. G. T. 

Princeton, N, J. 


vi 


CONTENTS 


CHA'^nSR 

Pkeface .... 



V 

I 

July 9, 1776 . 



1 

II 

The Voice 



12 

III 

Another Voice 



27 

IV 

The War Comes Nearer 



36 

V 

A Messenger . 



51 

VI 

On the Eoad at Night . 



61 

VII 

A Strange Hiding Place 



74 

VIII 

At Whitens Tavern 



83 

IX 

Discouragement 



100 

X 

By the Delaware . 



106 

XI 

In Camp .... 



119 

XII 

By the River . 



130 

XIII 

Christmas, 1776 



149 

XIV 

Trenton .... 



160 

XV 

News from Princeton . 



178 

XVI 

On the Skirmish Line . 



193 

XVII 

A Forced March . 



207 

XVIII 

The Voice Again . 



219 

XIX 

The Fight in the Orchard 


230 

XX 

Victory .... 



244 

XXI 

At the Head of the Street 


263 

XXII 

An Old Friend 



273 

XXIII 

The Mystery Deepens . 



282 

XXIV 

Conclusion . 



290 






















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ILLUSTRATIONS 


Samuel Smith held him in a grip of steel 

Frontispiece 

FAGS 

A sight greeted his eyes that made him 

stop and gasp 86 

Ahead of them they could see the Hes- 
sians . . 1 164 

/A 

The air was filled with the smell of burnt 

powder . 200 



A PRINCETON BOY 
IN THE REVOLUTION 


CHAPTER I 

JULY 9, 1776 

Eveey window in Nassau Hall blazed with light. 
Torches burned brightly on the front steps of 
the brownstone building. Crowds of people, 
students, professors and townsfolk, men, women 
and children, surged back and forth on the front 
campus, cheering and shouting. Hats were 
thrown in the air, men shook hands with one 
another, slapped their neighbors on the back, 
all talked excitedly. 

Professor William Houston stood in the door- 
way of Nassau Hall, coatless and disheveled, 
and harangued the gathering. Most of what he 
said was lost in the din and general confusion, 
but a little knot of people was gathered close 
around him and they applauded his remarks 
1 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

wildly. The flickering, dancing light of the 
torches illuminated his thin pale face, and with 
their uncertain glare made his flgure seem un- 
earthly and unreal. But what he was saying 
was real enough, as those near enough to hear 
his words could testify. 

It was the evening of July 9, 1776, and 
Princeton, town and gown, was celebrating the 
signing of the Declaration of Independence in 
Philadelphia five days previously. All that aft- 
ternoon the students had been busy placing 
candles in the windows, making great torches 
of tar and pitch to illuminate the campus and 
the college, and loading guns with blank charges 
to furnish noise for the evening’s demonstra- 
tion. J ohn Witherspoon, President of the Col- 
lege of New Jersey, was one of the signers of 
the document proclaiming the independence of 
the colonies, and with such an ardent patriot 
at the head of the college it was only natural 
that the students themselves should have ap- 
proved the action of the Continental Congress. 

Professor Houston was just completing his 
address. As he neared the close hi^ voice rose 
higher while the fluxing crowd in front grew 
quiet and one and all turned to listen. 

2 


JULY 9, 1776 

*^‘1, for my part/’ shouted Professor Hou- 
ston, ‘^insist that there is but one course open 
for the inhabitants of these thirteen colonies.” 
He stretched his arms above his head, both fists 
clenched. ‘‘Independence,” he cried. “Clear 
and unqualified independence.” 

He ceased speaking, and stepped down, mop- 
ping his brow. His closing remarks were 
greeted with silence, silence which endured for 
only a moment, however, for suddenly such a 
shout went up as had never been heard before 
in the little village of Princeton. Then, fol- 
lowing close upon the cheering, came a volley 
of musketry fire, then another, and still another. 
People pressed forward to shake Professor 
Houston’s hand, to congratulate him on his 
speech, and assure him of their complete agree- 
ment. He thanked them one and all and in most 
instances added the wish that Dr. Witherspoon 
personally might have been present to give, as 
he expressed it, “the real truth of the matter.” 

Gradually the crowd dispersed. Students re- 
paired to their rooms, not to study, for under 
the circumstances that was out of the question, 
but to talk over the events of the past few 
days and to speculate on what the future held 
3 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


in store. The townspeople too began to desert 
the campus, some going to their homes, and 
others to the Hudihras Inn, or The Sign of the 
College, there to discuss over a mug of ale the 
momentous developments recently come to pass. 

‘‘The greatest day of my life,” said John 
Stirling. 

“The greatest so far,” said Edward Nash, 
qualifying his roommate’s statement. 

“Yes,” said John. “No doubt there will be 
greater ones ahead, and more stirring times 
than weVe had yet.” 

John Stirling was a freshman at the College 
of New Jersey. He had entered the previous 
autumn as the result of the urging of his sec- 
ond cousin, Henry Stirling, graduated sixteen 
years previously. Henry Stirling, now a judge 
of the Court of Common Pleas in the rapidly 
growing town of Newark, was one of the most 
loyal alumni of the little college and he had 
always been determined that his cousin, twenty 
years his junior, should enjoy the privileges 
of Nassau Hall as he had done. Henry Stirling 
had been one of the most popular students who 
ever attended the college, but he had seldom 
worked very hard during his attendance there. 
4 


JULY 9, 1776 

Out in the world he appreciated the opportuni- 
ties he had missed, and was accordingly ex- 
tremely insistent that his young cousin should 
profit by his mistakes. Consequently he con- 
tinually urged upon him the importance of 
study. J ohn listened to this advice and profited 
by it. He was studious by nature, and had 
learned early in life that it is possible to com- 
bine work and play, and that play is all the 
more enjoyable when it is well-earned. 

He was a slightly built boy, not possessed 
of marked physical strength, but wiry and capa- 
ble of great endurance. He was only sixteen 
when he entered college and had but turned sev- 
enteen the month previous to the opening of this 
story. 

His home was in Elizabethtown, where his 
father was a Presbyterian minister. Aside 
from being a minister, his father was also one 
of the most ardent patriots in the colonies, was 
not afraid to say what he thought, and conse- 
quently had several times been in difficulties 
with the Tories in the neighborhood. Brought 
up in such an atmosphere and amid such sur- 
roundings, it was only natural that John too 
should be an eager supporter of the cause of 
5 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

the colonies. His black eyes flashed as he 
leaned forward in his chair in his room on the 
north side of Nassau Hall and spoke to the boy 
seated opposite him. 

Edward/^ he said excitedly, ‘‘the die has 
been cast. People must declare themselves 
now. This means real war from now on and 
no one in this part of the country is going to 
be able to remain neutral.’’ 

“To paraphrase a sentence from the Bible, 
the Yankee sheep are now going to be divided 
from the English goats,” said Edward. 

“Exactly.” 

Edward Nash, the occupant of the chair op- 
posite to John Stirling, had his home in Tren- 
ton. The two boys had not known each other 
before coming to Nassau Hall the previous 
autumn, but they had been drawn together from 
the start, perhaps because they were so little 
alike. Edward Nash was large, he was fat, he 
was not the least bit studious, he was as blond 
as John was dark, and while John was inclined 
to be serious, Edward spent a large percentage 
of his waking hours in laughter. He loved 
jokes and merriment, and while he could be 
serious if the occasion demanded ^he did not 
6 


JULY 9, 1776 

choose that mood if it could be avoided. The 
two boys were virtually inseparable, each one 
admiring the other for the qualities he himself 
lacked. As Edward expressed it, ‘‘John has 
everything I haven T got, which of course is a 
great deal. For my part I amuse John because 
I am so stupid.’^ 

John^s version was quite the opposite of his 
friend ’s. He liked Edward because he was jolly, 
full of fun, loyal, courteous and clean-minded, 
— in other words, a gentleman. He freely ad- 
mitted he had no idea why it was that Edward 
liked him in return, because he did not think 
he had nearly so much to otfer as his friend. 
The fact remained, however, that the two boys 
were the closest of friends, and were even re- 
ferred to sometimes as David and Jonathan. 

“I think I know a few of the goats, said 
Edward, keeping to his Biblical reference, “that 
is, a few of them who have not yet declared 
themselves. ’ ^ 

“They’ll not be popular in Princeton long,” 
said John emphatically. 

‘ ‘ Tories have not been popular here for some 
time past.” 

“Why,” exclaimed John, “it was nearly two 
7 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


years ago that the students burned all the tea. 
Professor Houston was telling us about it only 
this morning after the mathematics class. He 
said they broke into the college storeroom, took 
the winter ^s entire supply, searched students’ 
rooms for private stocks, and burned it all in 
a huge bonfire right out in front of Nassau Hall. 
To make the fire bum more brightly they put a 
figure at its center made to represent Governor 
Hutchinson of Massachusetts.” 

^‘Doctor Witherspoon made no objection 
either. I’ll wager,” chuckled Edward. 

^‘None at all according to Professor Houston. 
He said the president watched the bonfire from 
a darkened room in his house and secretly was 
much pleased at the spirit the students showed. ’ ’ 
can well imagine that,” said Edward. 

There is no more eager supporter of the col- 
onies’ cause than he.” 

‘‘Remarkable, too, in view of the fact that 
he has only lived in this country eight years,” 
said John. “It didn’t take him long to find out 
the difference between right and wrong.” 

“He was born with that knowledge, I think,” 
laughed Edward. 

“Most of us learn it soon enough,” saiil 

8 


JULY 9, 1776 

J ohn. ^ ^ The trouble is we don T always remem- 
ber the things we learn.’’ 

This discussion of President Witherspoon 
was suddenly cut short by the precipitous en- 
trance into the room of a young man, coatless, 
collarless, hair disheveled, and very warm. 
Also he was out of breath and he stood leaning 
against the opened door for some moments, 
panting heavily. 

‘‘Well, Tom,” exclaimed John, springing to 
his feet at sight of the newcomer. “What’s 
afoot?” 

Thomas Hood mopped his brow and rubbed 
his face with a large yellow silk handkerchief 
before replying. He replaced»the handkerchief 
in his hip pocket, drew his sleeve across his 
face and inhaled several deep breaths. 

“War,” he exclaimed feebly. 

“War?” demanded Edward. “What do you 
mean?” 

“War,” repeated Thomas. “War between 
Britain and the colonies.” 

John looked at him scornfully. “Why of 
course there’s war,” he said. “What else do 
you suppose is the meaning of Concord and 
Lexington and Bunker Hill, of Ticonderoga and 
9 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Sullivan Island^ What else do you think the 
declaration of independence in Philadelphia five 
days ago could mean? You didnT suppose 
John Adams and Lord North were going to 
have a debate, did you?’’ 

“But this means real war,” cried Thomas. 

“Certainly,” said John. “War to the bitter 
end. Remember that England and America are 
inhabited by people of the same blood, and you 
never heard of an Anglo-Saxon running from 
a fight or quitting before it was over, did you? 
I guess not.” 

John Stirling had a habit of asking questions 
and immediately providing the answers him- 
self. His black eyes snapped as he finished 
speaking, his hands gripped the back of the 
chair behind which he was standing, and he 
leaned forward and looked eagerly at his two 
friends. “Did you?” he repeated. 

“No,” said Edward. 

“You’re right, John,” Thomas agreed. 

“Well, then, it’s war,” said John, “and the 
question is, what are we going to do about it? 
I’d like to join Washington.” 

“Professor Houston is already talking about 
10 


JULY 9, 1776 

organizing a company of volunteers right here 
in Princeton/^ said Thomas. 

‘^Is the college to be closed then!^’ asked Ed- 
ward. 

^^Not that I know of/^ said Thomas. 
donT suppose there are any real plans as yet. 
Everything seems to be at sixes and sevens.’’ 

‘‘Where is President Witherspoon?” asked 
John. “He’s in Philadelphia, and no decision 
will be made without him. He’s the head of 
this college and will be the one to say what is 
going to be done here. Make no mistake about 
that.” 

“There could be no harm in organizing a 
militia company anyway,” said Thomas. “The 
more training we have the better qualified we 
shall be to do our duty when the proper time 
arrives. ’ ’ 

“I’ll join,” said John. 

“And I,” said Edward. 

“We’d all join, of course,” said Thomas. 

“And probably hang for it, you scurvy 
rebels,” exclaimed a voice at the window, di- 
rectly behind the spot where John was standing. 


11 


CHAPTEE II 


THE VOICE 

With one accord all three boys sprang to the 
window. The sash was open and they leaned 
far out in an effort to catch a glimpse of the 
person who had spoken to them. But the moon 
was behind a cloud and they were unable to see 
anything but the faint patches of light thrown 
through the windows by the candlelight in the 
rooms of Nassau Hall. A distant shout came to 
their ears, the wind rustled softly through the 
leafy branches of the trees, and an owl hooted, 
but otherwise there was complete silence. 

One by one the boys withdrew their heads 
and resumed their places about the room. John 
Stirling was the first to speak. 

^^DonT you think we had better shut that 
window P’ he inquired. do.’’ Suiting his 
action to the word, he arose, pulled the window 
to, and drew the curtain. 

‘^Who do you suppose that could have been?” 

12 


THE VOICE 


demanded Thomas. He was a trifle pale around 
the mouth and his blue eyes kept returning* 
to the window through which the voice had 
come. 

we only knew/^ said John between his 

teeth. 

‘‘Did the voice sound familiar to you!” asked 
Edward in a low tone. John could not help 
thinking that he had never seen his big friend 
so solemn. He and Thomas considered this 
question before answering it. Finally John 
spoke. 

“It was nasal, wasnT it? Come to think 
about it, it was a rather peculiar voice, and now 
that you mention it I oanT help the feeling that 
somewhere, some time I have heard it before. 
Is that the way you feel, Edward? 

“Exactly,’’ said Edward. “I know I’ve 
heard that voice before, but when and where 
I cannot say. But it’s familiar to me.” 

“Well, I’ve never heard it before,” said 
Thomas, “but I am certain I’ll know it if I 
hear it again. It was as you say, John, rather 
a nasal voice, high pitched and rasping.” 

The boys had drawn their chairs closer to- 
gether and were talking in low, subdued tones. 
13 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Nor was Thomas the only one who cast fre- 
quent, furtive glances at the window. They 
were all tense with excitement and their nerves 
were somewhat sensitive. 

We ’ll all know it if we hear it again, I 
guess,” said John. Let’s hope it will be day- 
light at the time so we can see who our friend 
is.” 

‘^Our friend the Tory,” said Thomas. 

‘‘Perhaps our friend the spy,” said Edward. 

“There are many of them about,” said John. 
“For safety’s sake it will be the part of wis- 
dom to exercise care in the selection of persons 
to whom to confide our feelings. It wouldn’t 
be much of a help to the cause of the colonies 
to get ourselves imprisoned right at 'the. start, 
would it?” 

Footsteps were heard on the stone floor with- 
out and before either of John’s two friends 
could reply to his question there came a knock 
at the door. 

“Come in,” said Edward. 

The door opened and Professor Houston ap- 
peared in the doorway. He was a man of about 
thirty-five, taller than the average, with a clean- 
shaven face and a square jaw that proclaimed 
14 


THE VOICE 


him a person of determination. The look of 
his gray eyes furnished further proof of this 
and also stamped him as being possessed of 
intelligence and courage. 

‘‘Boys/’ he said, “I’m starting for The Sign 
of the College and stopped by to see if you 
want to join me. There is a meeting there, I 
understand, and I am eager to know what trans- 
pires.” 

“What is the meeting about, sir!” inquired 
John, rising to his feet. The other two boys 
had also risen from their chairs when the pro- 
fessor entered the room. 

“It has to do with the militia company we 
are talking of organizing here, I believe,” said 
Professor Houston. 

“It is a rather late hour for us to be out,” 
said Edward. 

“No rules will be observed or enforced to- 
night, I guess,” said the professor with a laugh. 
“There is too much going on in the world for 
us to think about college rules. But don’t come 
unless you feel so inclined.” 

“I should like to go,” said John readily. 

“And I,” echoed Thomas. 

“I personally never had any objection to go- 
15 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


ing/^ said Edward laughingly. love to be 
up late at anything except my studies.’^ 

‘^Come along then, all of you,’’ said Profes- 
sor Houston. ‘‘We ought to find the meeting 
of considerable interest.” 

John stepped to the window to convince him- 
self that it was securely fastened. It was 
tightly bolted, so he picked up his hat from the 
table where it was lying and followed the others 
who had already started to leave the room. A 
moment later the little party of four had 
emerged from the West entrance of Nassau 
Hall and were proceeding in the direction of 
The Sign of the College, As they passed the 
president’s house the talk naturally turned to 
Hr. Witherspoon. 

“No doubt he’s doing something for the cause 
of the colonies at this very moment, ’ ’ said Pro- 
fessor Houston. “My only fear is that he may 
work too hard.” 

“How old a man is hel” John asked. 

‘ ‘ Let me see, ’ ’ said Professor Houston. ‘ ‘ He 
was born in 1722, I believe. That would make 
him fifty-five years old. Possibly that seems 
old to you boys, but that’s not a very great 
age after all.” 

in 


THE VOICE 


‘‘No doubt we ^11 agree with you when we 
reach that age ourselves/^ laughed Edward. 
“Dr. Witherspoon came over here eight years 
ago, didnT he?” 

“In 1768,” said Professor Houston. “He 
was bom in Scotland, as you know, and entered 
the University of Edinburgh when he was only 
fourteen years old. He studied there for seven 
years and then became minister at the church 
at Beith. Then he was transferred to Paisley a 
few years later, remaining there until the sum- 
mer of 1768 when he removed to Princeton.” 

“He has done great things for the college,” 
Edward observed. 

“Educationally and from a religious view- 
point too,” said the professor. “It has been 
astonishing to observe the awakened interest 
in religion the students have manifested since 
his arrival. This circumstance became notice- 
able within less than a year after he took up 
his duties here.” 

“A great man in my opinion,” said John. 

“If you think so there can be no doubt of it 
then,” said Edward with a chuckle. 

There was no time to notice Edward ^s re- 
mark or to pursue the subject of President 
17 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

Witherspoon further for they had now arrived 
before the entrance to The Sign of the College, 
The principal street of Princeton, The King’s 
Highway, was bristling with people that night. 
Ordinarily it would have been practically de- 
serted at such an hour, and most of the lights 
in the shops and homes bordering on this, the 
main thoroughfare from Philadelphia to New 
York, would have been darkened. The inns 
would probably have been the only places 
where evidences of human activities could have 
been found. Not so the night of July 9, 1776. 

Most of the houses and all of the shops were 
lighted with candles in almost every window. 
Even the moon, as if it too were aware of the 
importance of the date to the little town of 
Princeton, shone with unusual brilliancy. So 
bright were its beams that it was possible for 
one to recognize acquaintances on the street. 

The Sign of the College was the busiest place 
on the road. People surged in and out of the 
entrance, all of them talking at once, and ges- 
ticulating violently. Many of the men shook 
hands with one another. In the taproom 
toasts were being drunk to the thirteen colo- 
nies, to the drafters and signers of the docu- 
18 


THE VOICE 


ment drawn five days previously in Phila- 
delphia, to General George Washington, to 
President John Witherspoon for his coura- 
geous attitude, to the success of the colonies in 
the pending conflict, — in fact toasts were being 
drunk to everything connected in any way with 
the cause of the colonies. They were many. 

In the reception hall was an even greater 
crowd, packed against one another, and 
crammed into the corners, until every avail- 
able inch of room seemed to be occupied. Yet 
Professor Houston and his three young friends 
forced their way into the hall despite the jam. 
It was a warm evening, and inside the inn the 
air was stifling. Perspiration streamed from 
the faces of all the men crowded together in 
the reception hall and stood out in great beads 
on their foreheads. But no one seemed to 
mind. Every face was turned towards one end 
of the room where a man stood upon a table 
and harangued the assembly. His coat was 
otf, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his stock re- 
moved, his hair rumpled, — he put heart and 
soul and body into what he was saying. And 
his words were applauded loudly. 

Professor Houston pushed his way through 
19 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

the door and J ohn followed close behind ; he in 
turn was followed by Thomas and Edward in 
the order named. Mutterings and grumblings 
met them as they shoved their way into the 
room, but finally they were placed and their 
cramped neighbors forgot them and turned 
again to the speaker. 

^^Who is heP’ John whispered to Professor 
Houston. 

^ ‘ Samuel Smith of Maidenhead. ’ ’ ^ 

This did not mean anything to John, but cir- 
cumstances were not favorable to the asking 
and answering of questions and he held his 
peace. Mr. Smith was a man to look at twice. 
He was of huge proportions, thick-necked, deep- 
chested, and the muscles of his arms stood out 
in bunches as he clenched his big- jointed fists. 
He was a man of about twenty-six or twenty- 
eight years of age, smooth-shaven, with a jaw 
like a vise, and close-cropped curly black hair. 

‘‘No German king on an English throne shall 
impose unjust laws upon freeborn men and 
women, he shouted, holding both arms aloft. 
“No German king on an English throne shall 


1 Maidenhead is now the village of Lawrenceville, the site 
of the Lawrenceville School. 

20 


THE VOICE 


ever succeed in an attempt to enforce those 
laws upon freeborn men and women. No, nor 
will any one else ever succeed in such a das- 
tardly undertaking. Not in these thirteen 
colonies, certainly. Not in the Province of 
Jersey. Not in the town of Princeton. When 
any one tries such tricks, I say fight. Fight ! ’ ’ 
His voice rose higher, almost to a scream. 

‘‘Those men who drafted that declaration of 
the independence of the thirteen colonies knew 
what they were doing. They also knew the 
consequences of their acts. And those are, 
fight ! They knew their countrymen would 
stand by them, and they must not be disap- 
pointed. That means you and it means me too. 
I’m not going to disappoint them. Are you!” 

He pointed his finger straight before him 
as he asked this question and his eyes swept 
his audience. There was complete silence in 
the room. Not a man spoke, not a man stirred. 
For a full minute this silence lasted while 
Samuel Smith stood on the table, his black eyes 
flashing, searching the faces of those in front 
of him, his arms still rigidly outstretched. 
Then suddenly he turned and sprang from the 
table to the floor. John could not help but ob- 
21 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

serve how graceful he was, like some great cat, 
he thought. 

Instantly pandemonium reigned. Cheers and 
shouts rent the air, mingled with the stamping 
of feet and clapping of hands. Some one in 
the back of the room proposed three cheers for 
Samuel Smith and they were given with such 
force that the noise seemed to shake the inn 
to its very foundations. 

A man sprang upon the table recently occu- 
pied by Samuel Smith. John recognized him 
as Mr. Christopher Beekman, the proprietor 
of The Sign of the College, He held up his 
hand for silence, but it was some time before 
the noise had subsided sufficiently for him to 
make himself heard. Some people present 
were anxious to hear what he had to say and 
they all began to shout, ^‘Silence, Silence^’ in 
such loud tones and so persistently that they 
made almost as much noise as those whom they 
were trying to subdue. But comparative order 
was restored eventually. 

^ ^ Gentlemen, ’ ^ cried Christopher. 

‘‘Yea,’’ cheered the assemblage. They were 
ready to cheer anything. 

22 


THE VOICE 

‘‘Gentlemen, we have all heard Mr. Smith’s 
remarks — ” 

“Yea,” cheered the assemblage. 

“And,” continued Mr. Beekman, “I think we 
owe him a vote of thanks for the forceful way 
he has stated our case and pointed out our 
duty.” 

“Yea.” 

“I have an announcement to make,” the pro- 
prietor went on. “It is that the meeting 
scheduled here for this evening to discuss plans 
for the formation of a company of militia has 
been postponed until to-morrow morning and 
will be held in the refectory of Nassau Hall. 

“Yea,” cheered the crowd, evidently under 
the impression that every pause in the speak- 
er’s remarks called for a vocal demonstration. 

“Every one is urged to be present at eleven 
o’clock in the forenoon,” said Mr. Beekman. 
As the crowd started to cheer this announce- 
ment he held up his hand. ‘ ‘ To-night, ’ ’ he said, 
^^The Sign of the College invites you to step 
into the taproom, and as its guest, drink to the 
success of the great undertaking on which our 
thirteen colonies now are launched. ’ ’ 

23 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


This invitation brought forth more cheers 
than any of the other announcements, almost 
as hearty ones, in fact, as had greeted the con- 
clusion of Samuel Smith’s oration. 

Professor Houston and his three young 
friends decided not to avail themselves of the 
inn’s hospitality for the hour was late and 
they were tired after the hard work of the day. 
Moreover, the crowd surging towards the tap- 
room was so dense that it seemed a hopeless 
task to force one’s way in to where the evi- 
dences of hospitality were being served. 

‘‘Tell me about Samuel Smith,” urged John 
as they emerged onto the street. “Who is 
he?” 

“He’s a farmer,” said Professor Houston, 
“a graduate of Nassau Hall in the class of 
1770, I believe, with a farm between here and 
Maidenhead, just beyond the line dividing East 
from West Jersey. Beyond that and the fact 
that he is a man of standing in the community 
I know little about him.” 

“He’s evidently a patriot,” said Edward 
with a laugh. 

“And reputed to possess greater physical 
strength than any other man in this section of 
24 


THE VOICE 


the country/’ said Professor Houston. ‘Ht is 
said he can bend a poker in his bare hands.” 

hope he doesn’t ever find it necessary to 
try his strength on me,” said Edward. “I 
promise never to anger him if it can be 
avoided. ’ ’ 

They passed out into the street and turned 
their steps towards Nassau Hall. Late as it 
was many candles were still burning in the 
windows of the houses along The King’s High- 
way and numbers of pedestrians were still 
abroad. Lights still glowed in Nassau Hall 
and students, scantily clad because of the heat, 
were moving about the corridors and stopping 
in their friends’ rooms to discuss the mo- 
mentous news of the day. 

^‘Better go to bed,” said Professor Houston 
as they reached the entrance to the building. 
^Ht has been a trying day and you must be 
tired. There will be no classes to-morrow of 
course, and in the morning we shall be busy 
with the meeting of those interested in form- 
ing the company of militia.” 

They stood in the entrance hall ready to 
separate. ‘‘Good-night,” said Professor 
Houston. 


25 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


‘ ‘ Good-niglit, sir/^ repeated the three boys 
respectfully. 

The professor turned to the left and the boys 
to the right. Thomas roomed directly across 
the hall from John^ and Edward and they all 
stopped for a moment before his door to chat. 
Before they had time to say more than a few 
words two people entered the West entrance 
of the building and walked towards them. The 
newcomers were talking together and one of 
them had a voice that was nasal, high pitched 
and rasping. The minute the boys heard it 
they lapsed into complete silence and crowding 
close against the wall waited for the two men 
to pass. 


26 


CHAPTEE ni 


ANOTHER VOICE 

The two men offered the boys ‘‘good-evening” 
as they passed and the three hoys returned the 
greeting. Then they hurriedly entered John^s 
and Edward ^s room and closed and bolted the 
door behind them. Thomas drew the curtains 
across the window while Edward struck a light 
and lighted the candles. Their beams disclosed 
John standing in the center of the room, his 
thin nervous hands clutching the back of a 
chair, a characteristic pose. 

“Well,” he exclaimed, as his two friends 
faced him, “do you think that was the same 
voice we heard earlier in the evening? I do.” 

“I’d be quite willing to wager it was the 
same,” said Edward. “Who is that man any- 
way?” 

“The new steward, Eobinson,” said Thomas. 
“Just arrived to-day.” 

“He’ll bear watching,” said John grimly. 
27 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


‘‘First thing we know he’ll be poisoning our 
food.” 

“I doubt if he’d go as far as that,” laughed 
Edward. “He’d be found out surely and what 
would happen to him then wouldn’t make the 
risk worth his while.” 

“Well, who knows anything about him?” 
asked John. 

“I know only a little,” said Thomas. “I 
heard Professor Houston telling some one this 
afternoon that he is a strange, silent sort of a 
man who has come here from Brunswick. 
That’s all I know.” 

“It was certainly his voice outside the win- 
dow this evening,” exclaimed Edward confi- 
dently. “A Tory spy I vow.” 

“We’re not positive,” said Thomas, always 
conservative. 

“No,” Edward admitted, “but pretty posi- 
tive.” 

“Quite positive, I should say,” said John, 
“but Tom is right, — we are not certain and it 
would not be wise to say anything or do any- 
thing without having more positive proof. I 
suggest that we keep our suspicions to our- 
selves for the time being at least.” 

28 


ANOTHEE VOICE 


keep our eyes and ears open neverthe- 
less/’ added Edward. 

‘‘Of course,” Thomas assented readily. 

The clock in the tower struck twelve. 

“Midnight,” exclaimed John. “I had no 
idea it was so late. ’ ’ 

“Time to go to bed,” said Thomas. “I’ll 
leave you now. We must be at the meeting in 
the refectory to-morrow morning without fail.” 

“And be there early,” said John. “There 
will be a large crowd on hand. ’ ’ 

“Till morning, then,” said Thomas, and un- 
bolting the door he opened it and passed out 
into the hallway. A few short moments later 
Edward and J ohn were fast asleep, their slum- 
bers undisturbed by any thoughts of Tory spies. 
They did dream of red-coated British soldiers 
and Hessians, however, and when they were 
discussing their dreams while dressing the fol- 
lowing morning the mention of Hessians 
aroused the ire of both of them. 

“German butchers,” cried John warmly. 
“What are they doing over here anyhow?” 

“They’re here because King George hired 
them to come,” said Edward, his blue eyes 
flashing angrily. 


29 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


HVe heard/ ^ said John, ‘^that the Prince 
of Hesse put them at the disposal of King 
George because of a gambling debt he couldnT 
otherwise pay. A fine state of affairs.’’ 

don’t suppose the men themselves are to 
blame.” 

^^No,” said John, ‘‘possibly not. It’s the 
fault of their ruler, the Landgrave of Hesse- 
Cassel, I believe is his title.” 

“One of the hostlers at the Hudihras told 
me he had seen some of them,” said Edward, 
“big men all of them, with high fur hats, long 
jack-boots that reach to their thighs, a long, 
heavy, cruel spur on each foot, short, thick 
broad-swords, short carbines, and a heavy gun. 
Think of having to suffer under all that equip- 
ment, and they never vary it, I understand, 
under any conditions.” 

“Stupid, I say,” said John, drawing on his 
boots. 

‘ ‘ Stupid, of course, ’ ’ Edward assented. ‘ ‘ This 
hostler told me though that the most impres- 
sive thing about them are their mustaches. 
Every man wears one, a long one, and it is 
said that every morning they dye them with 
shoe-blacking. ’ ’ 


30 


ANOTHER VOICE 


‘‘They must be ferocious looking beasts.’’ 

“Well, I should say so. Quite a contrast to 
the smooth-shaven American Continentals.” 

“How many Hessians are there over here?” 

“Twenty thousand, I hear,” said Edward. 

‘ ‘ Good fighters, too. ’ ’ 

“Trained on the battlefields of Europe. 
They ought to he.” 

“Yes,” said John, fire in his dark eyes, “but 
remember that warfare in Europe and America 
are entirely different propositions. The kind 
of fighting they do over there won’t go here 
at all.” 

“We’ll hope not anyway,” said Edward, 
slipping his arms into his coat. “Our ‘armed 
mob’ gave the English something to think 
about at Bunker Hill, that’s sure.” 

“And what worries me is that they may have 
learned a lesson from that that will make them 
better soldiers from now on,” said John. 
“They had a good lesson up there at Boston 
and no doubt have profited by it.” 

“Do you realize this?” asked Edward, stand- 
ing in front of his roommate and looking him 
squarely in the eye. ^‘You and I are certain 
to be in the army before many weeks have 
31 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


passed and it wonT be long after that before 
we meet the British and Hessians face to face 
on the field of battle. Then we can tell for 
ourselves what kind of soldiers they are.’’ 

John did not reply for a moment. His face 
lost some of its color as he thought of what 
Edward had just said, but as the color ’went 
out of his cheeks his jaw grew more and more 
set, and the pupils of his eyes grew smaller 
and darker. His hands gripped the arms of 
the chair in which he was seated until his 
knuckles showed white. 

“Yes, I realize it,” he said at length. 

‘ ‘ It may mean, — ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said John, as Edward hesitated, “it 
may mean that, but it’s a just cause. I know 
what my duty is, and I mean to do it.” 

“Well, then,” said Edward in a different 
tone of voice, “let’s go down to breakfast, and 
see what old Eusty-Voice has provided for us 
to eat.” 

If any of the three friends had any fear of 
poisoned food he did not show it at breakfast. 
They did full justice to the meal, and only re- 
gretted that the new steward was nowhere in 
evidence. Eacl^ boy had hoped to get a closer 
32 


ANOTHER VOICE 

view of him, and study him in greater detail 
than had been possible previously. 

When breakfast was done they went out onto 
The King’s Highway and joined the knots of 
citizens gathered at frequent intervals along 
the road, and in particular in front of the tav- 
erns. Excitement was still at high pitch and 
there was talk in endless quantities. But the 
boys found it all interesting, although they took 
no really active part in the various conversa- 
tions. 

Later in the morning they attended the meet- 
ing in the refectory, and found the room almost 
as crowded as the room at The Sign of the Col- 
lege had been the previous evening. The up- 
shot of the meeting was that a militia company 
was organized, and Professor Houston was 
elected a captain. Samuel Smith, who had de- 
claimed in such fiery manner the night before, 
declined election as an officer, protesting that 
he had had no military experience and was 
therefore unfitted for a commission. He en- 
listed as a private, declaring that he would be- 
come an officer if he earned the honor, but not 
otherwise. 

Among the other privates sworn in were J ohn 

33 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Stirling, Edward Nash, and Thomas Hood. Six 
months was the period for which every one 
enlisted. 

After dinner that day the three friends were 
talking things over in Thomas’ room when the 
door was opened and an evil-looking face thrust 
itself upon their gaze. 

‘‘Fine wild strawberries for sale,” said the 
owner of it. 

“Get ont of here,” shouted Thomas and 
reached for a boot. 

The face was withdrawn as suddenly as it 
had appeared, and the door slammed after it. 

“Curse that fellow,” said Thomas with a 
laugh. “I never did like him and I won’t stand 
for him sticking his crooked nose into my room. 
Why doesn’t he stay in his store? He’s a good- 
for-nothing hound and nothing more. While 
the college was regularly in session he never 
dared come over here.” 

“Fleetmann, that’s his name, isn’t it?” asked 
Edward. 

“It is,” replied John, although the question 
had been addressed to Thomas. “Did you no- 
tice his voice?” 

Both Edward and Thomas seemed to start 
34 


ANOTHER VOICE 


slightly at this query, and they looked at John, 
then at each other, and back at John again. 

‘‘Did youT’ John repeated. 

“Why,^’ exclaimed Thomas, “I hadn^t 
thought of it before, but his voice is just like 
Robinson’s.^’ 

“Exactly like Robinson’s,” cried Edward. 

“Identical,” said John. 


35 


CHAPTEE IV 


THE WAB COMES NEARER 

‘^Is Fleetmann a ToryP’ asked Edward. 

don^t know anything about him/’ said 
Thomas, ‘^except that I believe him to be a 
scoundrel, who wouldn’t hesitate to be a Tory 
or anything else that would make money for 
him.” 

‘‘You don’t trust the gentleman, do you?” 
laughed John. 

“I do not,” exclaimed Thomas warmly. 
“And yet I don’t know why I feel about him 
as I do. I really know nothing about him, but 
from the first minute I laid eyes on him I have 
disliked him, and I have an aversion to him that 
is increased with every time I see him.” 

“Well, it’s a curious thing his voice being so 
much like Eobinson’s,” said Edward. “Which 
one do you suppose it was called in the window 
at us last night?” 

“Neither one, maybe,” said John. 

36 


THE WAR COMES NEARER 


What do you mean by thatT^ demanded Ed- 
ward. 

‘‘Well/^ said John, it^s possible for those 
two to have voices so nearly alike why isnT 
it possible for still a third or fourth person to 
have the same kind of a voice tool’’ 

‘Ht is possible,” said Thomas, ^‘but do you 
think it is probable I ’ ’ 

‘‘No, I don’t,” John replied, “but I’ve been 
thinking it over, and it seems to me that Robert 
Tryon has the same kind of a nasal voice as 
those two. Robert, if you will remember, has 
never been an enthusiastic supporter of the 
cause of the colonies.” 

“That’s true, John,” said Edward. “Per- 
fectly true.” 

“I’m becoming giddy thinking about it,” 
laughed Thomas. “I guess the only thing to 
do is to suspect everybody.” 

“Even President Witherspoon!” asked Ed- 
ward facetiously. 

“He’s one man I guess we can trust,” said 
Thomas. 

The days that followed were exciting ones 
in the College of New Jersey. Previous to the 
37 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


signing of the Declaration of Independence 
President Witherspoon had been opposed to his 
students leaving college to enlist in the army. 
He had considered them too young. In the 
face of his protests, however, a small company 
of volunteers had marched away in the spring 
and joined the Continental forces. And now 
that the Congress had taken a definite stand 
there was no holding the boys any longer. As 
a matter of fact President Witherspoon made 
no attempt to discourage them now. 

The students, that is the majority of them, 
scattered hastily to their homes, most of them 
to enlist in the regiments being formed in their 
home districts. One of them, John Bayard, 
of the Class of 1777, a close friend of John 
Stirling, was captured by a band of British 
troops while on his way to his home in Phila- 
delphia. He was denounced as a rebel and a 
son of a rebel, flung into prison and sentenced 
to be hanged as a spy. John^s mother, Mrs. 
Bayard, pleaded with General Washington to 
intercede for her son, and with his aid, and 
as the result of an interview the distracted 
woman was able to get with Sir William Howe, 
commander of the British army in New York, 
38 


THE WAR COMES NEARER 


John was released at the very last moment, 
when, in fact, the halter had actually been ad- 
justed about his neck. 

The story of this adventure naturally cre- 
ated a profound impression in Princeton. It 
frightened some, but on the whole it served 
rather to strengthen than weaken the deter- 
mination of most people. Other stories poured 
in in abundance; of the Hessians on Staten 
Island and their cruelty, thievery, and ferocity; 
of the skirmishes of the people of Elizabethtown 
with them across the Kill von Kull; of the 
Tory persecution of the patriots; the Indian 
raids on the people of the colonies; the increas- 
ing numbers in the British army; the size and 
strength of the British fleet in New York 
harbor. 

Then one day early in September, when John, 
Edward and Thomas had finished drilling and 
were taking tea at the home of Mrs. Leonard, 
one of the residents of the town, they received 
their first news of the battle of Long Island. 
A young officer on Washington’s staff had been 
dispatched by the Commander-in-chief to Phil- 
adelphia with a message to Congress. He was 
the son of an old friend of Mrs. Leonard’s and 
39 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


stopped at her house for a bit of refreshment 
before continuing his journey. He arrived 
shortly after the three hoys. 

^‘Mrs. Leonard/’ cried the young officer, 
Roger Barton by name, ‘^we have had a serious 
defeat. Our men were taken prisoners to the 
number of a thousand or more, and we lost 
four hundred killed.” 

His eyes filled with tears as he spoke. The 
three hoys listened with eyes almost starting 
from their sockets. Mrs. Leonard was easily 
the calmest of all. 

Roger,” she said gently, ‘^you must remem- 
ber that nothing worth while is easy to get. 
We cannot have smooth sailing all the time, you 
know. Setbacks are bound to come, and per- 
haps this one may he a blessing in disguise. 
The people of this country are not yet fully 
aroused to the size of the task we have under- 
taken. Perhaps this hitter defeat will serve as 
a reminder that if we are to be victorious we 
must all exert ourselves far more than we have 
done as yet.” 

‘‘I hope and pray you may he right,” said 
Lieutenant Barton earnestly. ‘^I also believe 
General Washington thinks as you do.” 

40 


THE WAR COMES NEARER 


‘^Can you tell us something about the battle, 
Lieutenant!’^ asked John eagerly. ‘‘We are 
more than anxious to hear about it.” 

“It’s not a very pleasant tale to relate,” said 
the lieutenant with a wry smile, ‘ ‘ and of course 
I don’t know all the details as yet, but I’ll gladly 
tell you what I do know of it.” 

Mrs. Leonard replenished his tea cup and he 
settled back in his chair and began his story. 

“Our army,” he said, “consisted of about 
eighteen thousand men, one-half of them on 
Long Island under General Nathanael Greene, 
the rest in New York under the direct command 
of General Washington. Greene’s army had 
been working desperately all summer to fortify 
Brooklyn Heights, an important position of 
great value in helping General Washington to 
hold New York, that is if New York itself could 
be held. The trouble always was that we could 
never tell where the British were going to 
launch their attack. It was a problem whether 
to put more men on Long Island and thus ex- 
pose New York, or to move them over from 
Brooklyn and make the heights easy to take. 
Another sad circumstance, — of course I should 
not like to be quoted — was that General Greene 
41 


A PKINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


was taken sick and General Israel Putnam suc- 
ceeded to the command. Old ‘ Put ^ is a fine man, 
but he hasn’t the ability of Greene. 

‘'Well, to get on with the story. On August 
22 Howe landed twenty thousand men at 
Gravesend Bay. Four roads run from there to 
Brooklyn Heights where our men were located. 
Meanwhile Howe’s brother. Admiral Richard 
Howe, in command of the British fleet, was 
feigning an attack upon New York from the 
water. Naturally that prevented Washington 
from sending any help to the army on Long 
Island. Then on the twenty-seventh the British 
started from Gravesend Bay, marching all night 
in order to surprise us. They moved in three 
detachments, and, making use of all roads, a 
small force of our men under Lord Stirling 
were caught between the various British de- 
tachments and almost completely surrounded; 
they tried to escape by swimming the Gowanus 
Creek, but few got across. Haslet’s Delawares 
and Smallwood’s Marylanders were almost all 
killed, drowned or captured. Lord Stirling 
himself was taken prisoner. 

“Meanwhile General Sullivan and his army 
42 


THE WAR COMES NEARER 

too had been caught between the Hessians and 
British. They also suffered terribly and most 
of those who were not killed were captured. 
General Washington of course was terribly 
upset, and immediately crossed to Brooklyn 
Heights to the aid of the men who were shut 
in behind the fortifications they had erected 
there. 

^^We all expected that the British would 
storm the Heights, but for some reason they 
delayed, and the delay gave General Washing- 
ton an opportunity to prove that he is a great 
leader. At least that’s the way I feel about 
it. Fog and rain had set in and on the night 
of August 29 Washington decided to evacuate 
the Heights and move his army across to New 
York.” 

Lieutenant Barton sat up in his chair, and 
banged one arm of it with his hand. 

‘‘He did it,” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing. 
“He moved men, horses, supplies, guns and 
ammunition across the river without the loss 
of a single one of them. When the British woke 
up the next morning the earthworks on the 
Heights were empty and deserted and the last 
43 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

line of boats with our men and supplies on 
board were safely out of gunshot range on the 
New York side of the river.’’ 

marvelous feat,” cried John enthusiasti- 
cally. ^^Our army is now safe in New York 
then. ’ ’ 

^^Not ^safe,’ I’m afraid,” said Lieutenant 
Barton, “but in a much less perilous predica- 
ment than it was before.” 

“What comes next?” asked Edward. The 
three boys had listened with rapt attention to 
every word of Lieutenant Barton’s story. 
Never had anything they had heard been so 
interesting, and each one of them pictured him- 
self as presently engaged in doing the same 
things the young lieutenant had related of the 
soldiers in and about New York. 

“Who can tell?” exclaimed Lieutenant Bar- 
ton with a sigh. “Things look rather black 
at the present time.” 

He rose to take his leave. His message to 
Congress was a pressing one and he was 
obliged to hurry on his way. His horse had 
been curried and watered and it was time to 
continue his journey. Already his mount was 
waiting for him in front of the house. 

44 


THE WAE COMES NEARER 


‘^Wouldn’t you like to know what the mes- 
sage is he carries r’ exclaimed Thomas, when 
the lieutenant had gone on his way, and the 
three boys were walking back to Nassau 
Hall. 

‘H^d much rather know what is going to hap- 
pen to our army in New York,’’ said John. 
‘H’m also impatient to be a part of it my- 
self.” 

Two months later his desire to be a part of 
the army was realized. His wish to know the 
fate of the Continental army in New York also 
was gratified. The Battle of White Plains on 
October 28, 1776, had gone against the Ameri- 
cans, and General Howe, pushmg on up the 
Hudson, moved against the forts erected on 
each side of the river. Fort Washington and 
Fort Lee. On November 16 Fort Washington, 
on the New York side, fell with the loss of three 
thousand men and a great quantity of supplies. 
Three days later Fort Lee, on the Jersey side, 
also succumbed, and its garrison, surprised and 
panic-stricken by the sudden appearance of the 
redcoats on their northern flank, were so terri- 
fied that they fled like a frightened mob, aban- 
doning arms, ammunition, tents, baggage, 
45 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


everything they possessed, even to their cook- 
ing utensils. 

The outlook was dark indeed. General 
Washington gathered together what was left 
of his army and presently was in full flight 
across the Jerseys. More of his men were pris- 
oners in New York than he had with him on 
the march. The colonists were disheartened 
and many of those whose faith had been waver- 
ing now openly cast their lots in with the 
Grown. The British boasted that the rebellion 
was at an end, and with their armies in close 
pursuit of Washington's battered little force it 
seemed as if their boasts were justified. 

To make matters worse. General Lee, whose 
negligence had been largely responsible for the 
fall of the fort named after him, repeatedly 
ignored Washington’s orders to bring his army 
into Jersey and join forces with the commander- 
in-chief. Scarcely three thousand men re- 
mained with Washington when early in Decem- 
ber he reached the village of Brunswick, and 
practically every one of the three thousand was 
hungry, ill-clad, discouraged, forlorn and home- 
sick. It seemed as if it were only a question 
of time before the colonists must abandon what 
46 


THE WAR COMES NEARER 


looked to be a forlorn hope. So the British 
thought at any rate, and so confident were they 
that the end had come that a large percentage 
of their soldiers were sent home. Lord Corn- 
wallis himself was expecting to sail for England 
shortly, the task of defeating what remained 
of the American army being delegated to the 
Hessians. Few people, least of all the Hessians 
themselves, expected that they would have any 
difficulty in accomplishing this puropse. 

Rumors of this condition of affairs reached 
Princeton and served to depress further the 
drooping spirits of the people. Many men who 
had joined the militia company resigned on one 
pretext or another until merely a skeleton of 
it remained. 

‘‘Disgraceful,’’ cried John Stirling angrily. 
“A pack of chicken-hearted fools. I have no 
use for people who quit when things start to 
go against them.” 

“Nor I,” said Edward. “What do you say 
to our starting out on our own account towards 
Brunswick to meet the army and joining it as 
volunteers ? ’ ’ 

“I’ll do it,” exclaimed Thomas. “I’m tired 
of waiting around. The college is closed so far 
47 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


as any studying is concerned, and there is no 
use in our delaying any longer/’ 

The three boys, together as usual, were en- 
gaged in talking about the thing that was al- 
ways uppermost in their minds. They were 
sitting on the bridge over Stony Brook by 
Bruyere’s Mills, whither they had walked from 
the town in order to be undisturbed and free 
to talk as they pleased. And as they sat there 
a horseman approached from the direction of 
Maidenhead, and drew rein in front of them. 
It was Samuel Smith. 

‘‘You look discouraged,” he exclaimed. 

“Like everybody else,” said John soberly. 

“Don’t include me,” said Samuel. “I feel 
better than I have in a long time.” 

“You must have some good news then,” said 
Thomas. “What is it?” 

“I’m on my way to join the army.” 

The three boys sprang to the ground at these 
words and looked at the speaker eagerly. 

“That’s just what we had decided to do,” 
said John. “Are you in such a hurry that you 
can’t wait until we are ready to go along with 
you? I’m sure you’re not.” 

“Well,” replied Samuel Smith with a laugh, 
48 


THE WAE COMES NEAEER 

‘H’m in a pretty big burry, but from what I 
hear General Washington and his army may 
reach Princeton at almost any time, and it 
may be he will come to us before we can get 
to him.’’ 

^‘Are they as close as that?” demanded Ed- 
ward. 

‘‘So I hear.” 

This rumor was confirmed when they arrived 
back at Nassau Hall. A scout had just ridden 
into town with word that the advance guard of 
the army would arrive in about two hours, and 
that as many of the soldiers as could be accom- 
modated would be quartered in the college itself. 
This news precipitated immediate confusion and 
excitement, and feverish preparations for their 
reception were inaugurated at once. Naturally 
the boys decided to wait for the army to come 
to them, particularly as the report was that it 
might encamp at Princeton for several days. 

President Witherspoon was scarcely ever at 
Princeton now. As an active member of Con- 
gress he was obliged to pass most of his time 
at Philadelphia, but somehow managed every 
few weeks to be sent to New York and of course 
always arranged to stop long enough at Prince- 
49 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


ton to see how the affairs of the college were 
progressing. Even though teaching had prac- 
tically ceased, the property was there and had 
to he watched over. In the president’s absence 
this duty had devolved upon Professor Hous- 
ton, and had become so arduous that he had 
been obliged to resign his commission in the 
militia. His ardor had not cooled, however, and 
upon receipt of word that the Continental Army 
was approaching Princeton called a meeting of 
all those who intended to enlist. 

John, Edward and Thomas naturally were 
among those who presented themselves, as was 
Samuel Smith. The hoys expected him, of 
course, but they were considerably startled to 
observe that three of the volunteers were Eob- 
inson, the Steward, Fleetmann, the storekeeper, 
and Arthur Tryon, their fellow student. At 
least one of these three, they felt certain, was 
not to be trusted, and could be enlisting in the 
Continental Army for no good purpose. Which 
one was it, that was the question. 


50 


CHAPTER V 


A MESSENGER 

Two days later John Stirling, Edward Nash 
and Thomas Hood were regularly enrolled pri- 
vates in the Continental Army. They had been 
duly sworn in, provided with muskets and what 
scanty equipment remained at the disposal of 
the quartermaster. This did not include full 
uniforms, as only coats remained to be dis- 
tributed. The army was not only short of 
equipment of all kinds, but had no money with 
which to buy, not enough in fact to pay the 
soldiers, and there were frequent grumblings 
among the men on this account. 

John Stirling was not grumbling, however. 
He was in the army, his long cherished dream 
was realized and he was happy. He was hap- 
pier still when the very afternoon of the day 
he had enlisted he was called to the room in 
Nassau Hall where his new company captain, 
Elihu Robbins, had his quarters, and entrusted 
51 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

with an important mission from Oeneral Wash- 
ington himself. 

Stirling/’ said Captain Robbins, ‘‘you are 
considered a good horseman, I understand.” 

“I have always been accustomed to riding 
a great deal, sir,” replied John modestly. 

“You know this Jersey country well!” 

“Yes, sir,” said John, and this was the truth. 
All his life he had accompanied his father on 
his travels about the Province in connection 
with the atfairs of the Presbyterian Church. 
The Reverend Joshua Stirling had for many 
years been a member of the Presbytery and 
obliged to do considerable traveling in connec- 
tion with the duties of his office. 

“You know where Morristown is?” asked 
Captain Robbins. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And how to reach that town from here?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

‘ ‘ General Lee and his army are encamped at 
Morristown,” said Captain Robbins. “I have 
here a very important message to be delivered 
to General Lee in person. Professor Houston 
tells me you are a young man to be trusted and 
one who knows the country well. I am there- 
52 


A MESSENGER 


fore entrusting this message to you to carry to 
General Lee. Speed is an important considera- 
tion and I urge you to use all possible haste in 
carrying this note to its proper destination.’^ 

He handed John an envelope, sealed with 
heavy red wax, and addressed to General 
Charles Henry Lee. J ohn placed it in the inside 
pocket of his coat. 

“Can you leave within the hour!” asked 
Captain Robbins. 

“I can leave in fifteen minutes,” said 
John. 

‘ ‘ Good. You will find a horse at the Hudihras 
waiting for you. Merely ask for Corporal 
Hoagland and he will know about the animal 
you are to ride.” 

“Yes, sir,” said John. 

“That is all,” said Captain Robbins, “ex- 
cept of course that you are not to disclose to 
any one the commission you are to execute, or 
anything about it.” He looked John squarely 
in the eye. 

“Of course not,” said John, inwardly angry 
that the captain should think it necessary to 
mention such a thing, which John considered 
should be taken as a matter of course. 

53 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


^^Repoit back to me upon the fulfillment of 
your mission/’ said Captain Robbins. 

‘‘Here at Nassau Hall, sir?” 

“Wherever the army happens to be,” said 
Captain Robbins, and his mouth was twisted 
into a wry smile. ‘ ‘ God only knows where that 
will be a week hence.” 

He nodded curtly, and John saluted — rather 
self-consciously — and left the room. As he 
stepped into the corridor he bumped full into 
Robinson, the steward. 

“I beg pardon,” they both exclaimed to- 
gether, and passed on. 

It did not occur to John at first that there was 
anything unusual in his meeting Robinson there, 
but as he walked down the hall and the stew- 
ard’s unpleasant nasal voice remained in his 
ears he could not help but recall the words that 
had been uttered outside his window that eve- 
ning in the previous July, and he wondered 
if Robinson had been there by accident after 
all. To be sure he and Edward and Thomas 
kept as close a watch as they could on the three 
men whose voices were like the one which they 
had heard that night, and none of them had 
been able to discover anything out of the way 
54 


A MESSENGER 


in the actions of any of the persons they sng. 
pected. Yet they did suspect them all, and the 
feeling that all was not quite right had per- 
sisted. He wondered if Robinson was a spy^ 
Certainly he was a mysterious person, and John 
was unable to shake off the feeling of uneasiness 
which had assailed him upon meeting the stew- 
ard outside the captain’s door. Could he have 
overheard? 

He had little time to think about such things 
now, however. He stopped to say good-by to 
Thomas and Edward, and found Samuel Smith 
with them. 

Where you going, John?” demanded Ed- 
ward as his erstwhile roommate appeared be- 
fore him, booted and spurred, musket in hand, 
and a knapsack across his shoulders. 

‘ H ’m not at liberty to say, ” said J ohn. ‘ ^ I ’ve 
been ordered to deliver a message and am start- 
ing at once.” 

His friends recognized from the seriousness 
of his manner that it was important business 
upon which he was engaged, and they did not 
press him further. 

Lucky dog,” was Samuel Smith’s only com- 
ment. 


55 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLHTION 


‘‘Getting into action quickly, arenT you, 
J ohn ? ’ ^ said Thomas enviously. ‘ ‘ I hope we ^re 
going to see you soon again. 

‘ ‘ I hope so, ^ ^ said J ohn, ‘ ‘ but it ’ll be several 
days at the least. ’ ’ He shook hands with them 
all. 

“Good-by,” he said. 

“Good-by and good luck,” they replied in 
chorus. 

He went out, and five minutes later presented 
himself at the Hudihras, In response to his 
inquiry Corporal Hoagland appeared, a giant 
of a man wearing a coonskin cap, and without 
a word led John around to the rear of the inn 
where the stables were located. 

“Wait here,” he directed, and left John 
standing in the center of the stable yard, while 
he disappeared inside. 

A moment later he reappeared, leading a roan 
horse by the bridle. John, who loved horses, 
could see at a glance that the animal was un- 
usually well-bred, and had the appearance of 
one able to make speed. The horse had a keen 
and intelligent eye, and an alert expression 
which delighted the young messenger. And a 
moment later, when he had scratched the horse ’s 
56 


A MESSENGER 


ear, patted his neck and slipped a bit of sugar 
between his eager lips, the intelligent beast 
thrust his nose again into John's hand, and 
whinnied softly as if to say, always know 
when people like animals and you're one who 
does. I'll do my best for you." 

‘‘You won't need spurs with him," said Cor- 
poral Hoagland. “Just talk to him and he'U 
do the rest." 

A moment later John had lifted himself into 
the saddle, and was cantering out of the stable 
yard. As he reached the main road. The King's 
Highway, and turned northeast, two men, stand- 
ing beneath the sweeping branches of an old 
beech tree, hailed him. 

“Fine horse you've got there," said one, and 
John recognized Robert Try on. The other man 
was Fleetmann, the erstwhile storekeeper. Both 
of them wore the insignia of the Continental 
Army, but John did not like the idea of their 
being on hand to see him start his journey. 

“Yes," he said curtly, and, momentarily for- 
getting Corporal Hoagland 's instructions, he 
touched the horse's flanks with the spurs. The 
sensitive animal, unaccustomed to such treat- 
ment, started so suddenly that J ohn was nearly 
57 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

thrown from the saddle, and then he was off 
like a deer, racing at a mad pace down the 
road. For a few moments he had all he could 
do to stick on the horse ^s back, and it was not 
until they had reached a point opposite the 
entrance to Castle Howard , — the plantation of 
Captain William Howard, formerly an officer 
in the British Army, but now an ardent x>atriot, 
— that he succeeded in quieting his excited 
mount. When the animal was entirely calm the 
young messenger dismounted and removed his 
spurs so that there should be no recurrence of 
the accident. 

He mounted again and resumed his journey. 
Darkness was rapidly descending, for it was 
December and night came early; the weather 
too was bitter cold, and John was frequently 
obliged to drop the reins and slap his chilled 
fingers against his thighs to keep the blood cir- 
<julating in them. And as he jogged along he 
revolved in his mind the fact that Robinson, 
Fleetmann and Robert Tryon, the three people 
with the nasal voices, had all happened to be 
about just when he was starting on his journey. 
Had they just ‘^happened’’ to be on hand! It 
was a curious coincidence anyway that these 
58 


A MESSENGER 


particular three had been the ones out of all 
the army whom he had particularly noticed as 
he was leaving Princeton. 

What did it all mean 1 Did it mean anything 
at all? 

‘‘I’m nervous, I guess,” John muttered to 
himself and tried to put the whole affair out 
of his mind. 

He decided he would continue on until he 
came to the hills along which the road ran to 
Morristown. He knew of a farmhouse where 
he and his father had found a welcome and 
refreshment on one of their journeys together;-, 
he knew that Mr. and Mrs. Van Pelt, who lived 
there, were loyal supporters of the colonies, 
and was confident they would be happy to care 
for him and his horse for a few hours. 

He had not covered many miles, however, 
before black night closed in upon him. For 
nearly an hour and a half now he had met no 
one, but John was not sorry to have the road 
to himself. One could never tell whether the 
traveler met with was friend or foe, and to 
avoid having to settle this important point John 
was content to meet no one at all. 

His horse could not travel faster than a walk 

59 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


in the darkness, however, and John began to 
feel pretty lonely. The road was lined with 
heavy woods on both sides and was dark as a 
pocket. Once in a while the young messenger 
caught a glimpse of the stars between the naked 
branches of the trees overhead, and their yel- 
low, friendly glimmer always helped to cheer 
him up. But gradually, imperceptibly almost, 
a feeling of uneasiness began to creep over him. 
What the feeling betokened he could not un- 
derstand at first, and it was only after he had 
experienced it for a considerable time that he 
was able to define it. 

And when he did understand it it did not 
add to his peace of mind. It was the feeling 
— sensation describes it better perhaps — that 
often comes to men on lonely and perilous mis- 
sions. Just when he was definitely conscious 
of it John never knew, but all of a sudden he 
found himself certain of the fact that he was 
being followed. 


60 


CHAPTEE VI 


ON THE KOAD AT NIGHT 

When this feeling finally took definite shape 
in John’s mind he was so startled that he reined 
in his horse and sat there in the darkness, lit- 
erally quaking in his hoots. Shivers ran up and 
down his spine, and the weird call of a screech 
owl in a nearby tree so startled him that he 
almost cried aloud in terror. The silence of 
the night oppressed him and the darkness 
seemed to settle down about him like a shroud. 

The wind rustled through the brown leaves 
of an oak tree, which with the stubbornness of 
its kind had retained its leaves long after all 
the others had shed theirs, and he fancied the 
noise to he human voices. His horse blew 
through his nostrils and the sound seemed to 
John loud enough to be heard in the camp of 
Cornwallis, miles away. How long he sat there 
in that lonely spot he did not know, hut it 
seemed like hours. 

Finally he regained partial control of himself 
61 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


and with a great effort of the will told himself 
that his fears were groundless, that he was 
a coward to lose his nerve so completely, and 
that nothing was to be feared except his own 
imagination. He clucked to the horse and re- 
sumed his slow progress towards the home of 
the Van Pelts, now some six miles distant. 

But the feeling that he was being followed 
persisted. When he had gone a half mile far- 
ther he found himself halted in the center of 
the road, once more listening with every sense 
alert for sounds of some one approaching from 
behind. The soughing of the wind through the 
bare branches of the trees was all that he heard, 
and presently he urged his mount onward again, 
cursing himself for being such a fool. The 
woods disappeared a short distance ahead, and 
the stars shone so brilliantly in the winter sky 
that the road was fairly discernible and he 
urged his horse into a trot. The sound of 
the hoofs on the frozen road revived his spirits 
somewhat, and the motion set his blood to cir- 
<julating faster so that he felt warmer and more 
at ease. 

When he entered the next wooded stretch, 
however, his spirits drooped again, and again 
62 


ON THE EOAD AT NIGHT 


the feeling came over him that some one was 
following him. Once more he stopped his horse 
and listened. Like a statue carved from stone 
he sat, straining his ears for the sound he 
dreaded to hear. The wind moaned through the 
bare tree tops, and the stars shed their ghostly 
light in faint patterns on the narrow road, but 
John heard nothing. 

^‘I’m an arrant coward or a fool, one or the 
other, he muttered. ‘‘Perhaps I^m going 
crazy. ’ ^ 

He drew in a long breath, and straightened 
up in the saddle, resolved to keep a firm grip 
upon himself, and not allow himself to be fright- 
ened again by his own imagination. 

Suddenly he heard a noise that caused him 
to grow first cold all over and then hot. He 
felt powerless to move. His tongue seemed 
cloven to the roof of his mouth when he tried 
to cluck to his horse. And yet the sound in 
itself was not of a terrifying nature. It was 
merely the noise made by a horse’s hoofs on 
frozen ground. The sound came from in back 
of him, and the horse was galloping. 

John was at a loss what to do. His first 
impulse was to urge his own mount forward 
63 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

as fast as he could and try to outdistance his 
pursuer, for he had not the slightest doubt that 
the mysterious horseman was anything else. 
On second thought, however, he decided that 
such a course would be foolish. If he attempted 
such a race he might not win it, and if he did 
win his horse would he tired for the coming 
day. Furthermore, he was not well acquainted 
with the road and feared to risk possible injury 
to his mount. 

Meanwhile the sound of the hoof beats grew 
louder. John suddenly decided that the best 
plan would he for him to try to escape the 
notice of the other horseman entirely. He 
turned his horse aside from the road and 
walked him slowly into the woods. He pene- 
trated about fifty yards, dismounted and teth- 
ered the animal to a sapling, and after satisfy- 
ing himself as to the priming of his rifle, crept 
hack towards the road. A few moments later 
he had established himself behind a large beech 
tree, and there he awaited the coming of the 
other rider. 

Closer and closer came the noise of the gal- 
loping hoofs. 

^‘He’s in an awful hurry,’’ thought John, 
64 


ON THE EOAD AT NIGHT 


who, now that the thing he feared was close 
at hand, was calmer than he had been for an 
hour. ^‘He^s taking chances with his horse, too, 
on this road.’’ 

As this thought ran through the young mes- 
senger’s mind the horseman was possibly a 
hundred yards distant. Immediately the horse 
stopped galloping and slowed down to a walk. 
John did not like this, and as he gripped his 
rifle more tightly he felt a sickening sensation 
in the pit of his stomach. The fear also assailed 
him that his horse might whinny a greeting to 
the passing stranger and thus disclose his pres- 
ence. He waited and listened in a panic lest 
the horseman should stop. Never, it seemed to 
him, had he heard a horse walk so slowly. 

He strained his eyes in the darkness for a 
glimpse of the traveler. A faint, slowly mov- 
ing blur was all he could make out, hut the 
main thing with John was that it should keep 
moving. And keep moving it did, steadily along 
the road. To John it seemed as if hours were 
required for the rider to pass the spot where 
he stood, and he did not leave his position until 
the sound of the horse’s hoofs — presently quick- 
ened to a gallop — had died away in the distance. 
65 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Could it have been Robinson/^ he won- 
dered, ^‘or Fleetmann or Robert Tryon? Or 
possibly some one of the enemy tipped off by 
one of these three that he had started for Mor- 
ristown ? ’ ’ 

He untied his horse and mounted, revolving 
these thoughts in his mind. After all, he re- 
flected, he had no definite reasons for suspect- 
ing these three men. But ever since that high- 
pitched nasal voice had called in the window 
to Edward and Thomas and him the previous 
summer he had, in common with his two friends, 
been obsessed with the idea that these three 
men would bear watching. The fact that none 
of them had done anything to confirm their sus- 
picions had not served to make them any the 
less watchful. 

‘Ht^s a queer thing, John muttered as he 
turned his horse into the road again and pro- 
ceeded on his journey. He kept his ears open 
for sounds of other horsemen, but evidently the 
one who had passed him back in the woods 
had far outstripped him, he met none traveling 
in the opposite direction, and heard nothing 
of any one following. After an hour and a 
half he came to the home of the Van Pelts. 

66 


ON THE EOAD AT NIGHT 


Their house stood far back from the road, 
and the approach was through an apple or- 
chard. The house was in complete darkness 
and it suddenly occurred to John that possibly 
the Van Pelts were not living there any more. 
He knew that Mr. Van Pelt, a man of nearly 
sixty, was too old for active soldiering, and 
could not have joined the army, but he had not 
had any news of them for over a year, and 
there was of course the possibility of their hav- 
ing moved away. 

He stopped his horse in front of the house, 
and was preparing to dismount when suddenly 
a window in the second story opened and a rifle 
was fired point blank at the young messenger. 

John had one foot in the stirrup, and as his 
horse jumped at the noise of the discharge, he 
was tripped and thrown violently to the ground. 
Stunned and startled, he was unable to move or 
do anything for a moment. Fortunately the 
bullet had missed him. Whether the horse had 
been hit or not he could not tell. He heard the 
frightened animal clattering otf through the 
orchard. 

A moment later John had recovered his wits 
and gained control of himself once more. He 
67 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


sprang to Ms feet, and scurried beMnd a nearby 
apple tree for protection. 

^‘Get out of there, you damned Hessian,’’ 
shouted an angry voice from the window. And 
to John’s immense relief he recognized the 
voice as belonging to Mr. Van Pelt. 

^‘Mr. Van Pelt,” he cried eagerly. ‘‘Don’t 
shoot. Don’t you know me?” 

“Who are you?” demanded the irate Mr. 
Van Pelt, though John was quick to notice that 
his voice was a trifle milder than it had been. 
“How do you expect me to know you in the 
dark?” 

“ I ’m J ohn Stirling. ’ ’ 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

“Let me in and you can look at me.” 

“What are you doing here if you are John 
Stirling?” 

“I’m on a mission for General Washington,” 
said John with a touch of pride in his tone. 

“Huh,” grunted Mr. Van Pelt. 

“My duties took me this way and I thought 
I’d stop and rest a little while at your house, 
if you’ll let me.” 

“Are you telling the truth?” 

“I swear it,” said John earnestly. 

68 


ON THE EOAD AT NIGHT 


‘^Well, you donT talk like a Hessian any- 
way/^ said Mr. Van Pelt. ^H’ll get a light and 
open the front door. No treachery remember.’’ 

‘‘You can depend upon me,” said John. He 
could not help but smile a bit at the cross-exami- 
nation to which he had been subjected. 

A moment later a light appeared through the 
window, and presently John saw it descending 
the stairs. He stepped out from behind the 
tree and approached the front door. He heard 
bolts being slipped back and after a brief delay 
the door opened on a crack. 

“Keep him covered with the rifle, Joan,” he 
heard Mr. Van Pelt say. “Step up here and 
let’s have a look at you,” John was ordered. 

John mounted the step and stood before the 
door. Mr. Van Pelt was just inside, holding 
a tall candle above his head on which reposed 
a nightcap. He strained his eyes to look at 
John. 

“You say you’re John Stirling?” he in- 
quired. 

“I do,” said John. “You needn’t keep that 
rifle pointing at me, Mrs. Van Pelt. I’m telling 
the truth.” 

“He is, Joan,” exclaimed Mr. Van Pelt sud- 
69 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

denly. ‘^Come in, John. Please excuse me for 
shooting at you, but some of those German 
butchers called on us early in the evening and 
when I heard you riding through the orchard 
I thought of course they were coming back. 
They stole our horse and all our chickens and 
I was bound to give them a warm reception this 
time. ’ ^ 

He grasped John by the hand and drew him 
inside. Mrs. Van Pelt put down the rifle and 
also greeted John warmly. 

‘‘So you’re in the army, are you?” she ex- 
claimed. 

“Yes,” said John. 

“What’s left of it,” said her husband gloom- 
ily. ‘ ‘ Left college ? ’ ’ 

“There’s not much college to leave,” said 
John. “There hasn’t been for months.” 

“Well, we’re delighted to see you. How long 
can you stay?” 

“A very short while,” said John. “I’m on 
my way to the army at Morristown. I thought 
I would stop here and rest myself and my horse 
for a few hours before continuing the rest of 
the way. I’ve come from Princeton this after- 
noon.” 


70 


ON THE ROAD AT NIGHT 


‘‘You must be tired and hungry,’’ exclaimed 
Mrs. Van Pelt solicitously. “I’ll get you some- 
thing to eat and then you can rest.” 

“Where’s your horse!” demanded Mr. Van 
Pelt. 

“Bless me,” cried John, “I had forgotten 
him. Your shot frightened him off.” 

“Did I hit him!” 

“Oh, I don’t think so.” 

“I certainly hope not. Wait a minute until 
I get a few clothes on and I’ll go round him 
up for you.” 

John protested that he could do that him- 
self, but Mr. Van Pelt would not hear of it. 
He insisted that the young soldier stay right 
in the house and get all the rest he could; be- 
sides, he said, John would not know his way 
about the place and might get into trouble. 

John’s objections fell on deaf ears, and pres- 
ently Mr. Van Pelt had sallied forth into the 
night to find the missing horse. Mrs. Van Pelt 
ushered John into the kitchen, and in an in- 
credibly short time had prepared a hearty meal 
for him, to which needless to say he did full 
justice. As he was finishing Mr. Van Pelt re- 
turned with the report that he had located the 
71 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


horse, apparently unhurt, and had taken him to 
a shed a quarter of a mile back of the house 
in the woods, and tied him there. 

Those Hessians will be back, I’m afraid, 
he exclaimed. ‘Hf they do come Ave don’t want 
them to get your horse.” 

should say not,” said John anxiously. 
‘H’d be in a pretty fix.” 

don’t reckon they’ll find him up there in 
the woods if they do return,” said Mr. Van 
Pelt. ‘ ‘ We don ’t want them to find you either. ’ ’ 
‘‘Don’t think of such a thing,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Van Pelt. “John, if you’ve had all you 
want to eat, come and let me show you a bed. 
You’ll need all the rest you can get.” 

There was a bedroom on the ground floor of 
the kitchen, and in a very few minutes John 
was sound asleep. Mr. Van Pelt had promised 
to awaken him at six o’clock so that he could 
be up and on his way early. Personally John 
had few worries about Hessians. A raiding 
party no doubt, but it did not seem to him prob- 
able that they would remain long in the neigh- 
borhood with General Lee’s army encamped 
only a few short miles away. He fell into a 
heavy, dreamless sleep, and had not made him- 
72 


ON THE EOAD AT NIGHT 


self comfortable even to the extent of remov- 
ing his clothes. 

How long he slept he did not know, but it 
seemed to him that only a few moments had 
elapsed when he felt himself being rudely 
shaken. He sat up in bed, dazed. 

^ ^What’s the matter T’ he demanded. 

“Get up. Get up quickly,^’ said Mrs. Van 
Pelt agitatedly. “The British are coming.’’ 


73 


CHAPTER VII 


A STRANGE HIDING PLACE 

John sprang to his feet, thoroughly awake at 
once. 

Where are theyP’ he demanded. 

‘^Coming through the orchard,’^ said Mrs. 
Van Pelt. ^‘Come with me. You must hide. 
Hurry!’’ 

John asked no further questions. Mrs. Van 
Pelt was already passing through the doorway 
into the kitchen, and he followed close at her 
heels. She unbolted the back door, and they 
stepped out. The first faint streaks of dawn 
were visible in the eastern sky, and a ghostly 
gray light made it possible for them to distin- 
guish objects with some degree of clearness. 

The barn stood a short distance from the 
rear of the house, and into it Mrs. Van Pelt 
led the way. John could hear faintly, issuing 
from the orchard, the shouts and calls of the 
British soldiers. 


74 


A STEANGE HIDING PLACE 


hope Mr. Van Pelt doesn’t shoot at them,” 
he said. 

hope so too,” said Mrs. Van Pelt. 

She walked, and ran, through the bam, past 
the empty horse stall, and, opening a small door 
at the rear, stepped out of doors once more. 
John had to stoop to pass through the doorway, 
but he was only a step behind his guide. At 
the rear of the bam stood a haystack. A pitch- 
fork leaned against it, and seizing it in both 
hands Mrs. Van Pelt began digging furiously 
into the mound of hay. 

‘^Let me do that,” cried John, quick to un- 
derstand her purpose. 

^‘No,” she replied shortly. can do it 
better.” 

In almost no time she had dug a hole in the 
side of the mound of hay big enough for a 
man to crawl into. Then she stood back and 
looked at John. 

Without a word he dropped on all fours, and 
backed himself into the opening Mrs. Van Pelt 
had dug. 

‘^Lie down,” she ordered. 

He stretched his legs out straight in back 
of him, and with both hands flat on the ground 
75 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

forced himself as far into the haystack as he 
could. 

^‘That^s enough/’ said Mrs. Van Pelt, and 
immediately she began pitching the hay over 
the young messenger, which a moment previ- 
ously she had removed from the stack. It was 
the work of but a minute to cover him com- 
pletely. 

‘‘Can you breathe?” she inquired in a low 
voice. 

“Fairly well,” John replied. The dust and 
the particles of hay got up his nose, and half 
choked him, but still he could breathe. 

“There’s only a light covering over your 
face,” said Mrs. Van Pelt. “Don’t move your 
head or you’ll disturb it. I’m leaning the pitch- 
fork directly against the spot where you are 
lying.” 

She was gone. A moment later John heard 
her close the rear door of the barn and then 
all was silent. He wanted to cough. Every 
time he attempted to take in a breath he inhaled 
a quantity of the dust; it irritated his nose, 
and when he attempted to breathe through his 
mouth that proved even worse. He was afraid 
to open his eyes for fear of the dust getting into 
76 


A STEANGE HIDING PLACE 

tliem ; then he would have to rub them and the 
movement of his arms would no doubt dislodge 
his covering of hay and expose his hiding place. 

Some of the hay was damp and he began to 
feel cold. After a short time his limbs began 
to get stiff and cramped. The weight of the 
hay became uncomfortable, and he was thor- 
oughly miserable. All the time, however, his 
ears were strained for any sounds of the enemy, 
and his anxiety helped him to some extent to 
forget his bodily discomforts. 

All was silent as the grave. The only sound 
he heard for what seemed to him to be hours 
was the cawing of some crows winging their 
heavy flight overhead, setting out on their daily 
search for food. 

John’s position grew more and more cramped 
as the minutes passed. The British must have 
gone by this time, he thought, and he even con- 
sidered forcing his way out of his strange hid- 
ing place. In fact it seemed to him that he 
must get out into the air again where he could 
breathe freely. But he knew Mrs. Van Pelt 
would return when the danger had passed, and 
he resisted such impulses as impracticable. He 
could feel the letter he was bearing in his in- 
77 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


side pocket to General Lee, and the realization 
that he was the carrier of an important mes- 
sage made him set his teeth and resolve to 
bear his present discomfort under any and all 
trials and discomforts. He knew that Edward 
or Thomas or Samuel Smith, any of his Prince- 
ton companions in fact, would hold out against 
all obstacles and he resolved that he could do 
no less. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of voices. 

‘‘Ve vill in der back of der barn look,’^ John 
heard a deep guttural voice say, and his heart 
almost stopped beating. He figured that by 
now it must be broad daylight, and he felt cer- 
tain that some one would notice that the hay 
had been disturbed, and would dig into the side 
of the stack. He gave himself up for lost. 

John could hear people walking about in dif- 
ferent directions. Most of the men, however, 
it seemed to him, were standing directly in front 
of his hiding place. 

‘^Ve scoured der house clean,’’ the deep voice 
said. ‘‘Her vas no signs of him dere. Nor of 
der horse eeder.” 

‘^But,” said a voice, and John almost jumped 
clear of his place of concealment at the sound 
78 


A STEANGE HIDING PLACE 

of it, ‘ ‘ I did not catch up to him last night and 
your men say no one passed this way along the 
road.^^ 

The voice was high-pitched and nasal. John 
knew the voice, and knew that it belonged to 
one of three men. 

‘‘Dot proves noddings,’’ said the Hessian 
testily. “He may haf der odder road took.’^ 

“There is no other road,^’ said the owner 
of the nasal voice. 

“You are sure den he left BrincetonP^ 

“Of course I’m sure,” cried the other. “I 
saw him with my own eyes.” 

‘ ‘ It iss very beculiar, ’ ’ said the Hessian. 

“He must be at this house or the one on 
beyond up the road.” 

“Den,” remarked the Hessian confidently, 
“it must be der odder von. I do not tink he iss 
here.” 

“I am not so sure,” said the man with the 
nasal voice. “Old Van Pelt is a liar and I be- 
lieve he has seen him in spite of all he says.” 

“It might be,” said the Hessian with a 
chuckle, “dot if ve stuck Misder Van Peld vit 
der fork here he might haf somedings more to 
say for himself.” 


79 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


like to stick it clean through him/’ cried 
the other angrily. ‘‘Look in that corncrib,” he 
called, evidently to one of the members of the 
searching party. 

John scarcely dared to breathe, and yet at 
the same time he had a burning desire to spring 
out suddenly and confront his enemies. He 
realized that it was foolhardy even to think of 
such a thing and that such a move would mean 
certain capture, perhaps death. He knew he 
had no right to risk the message he carried, 
but the curiosity he had to discover the identity 
of the owner of the nasal voice made it difficult 
to resist the impulse. 

“Blockheads,” said that person in a tone of 
disgust. “You’ve let him slip right through 
your hands.” 

“He could not haf come dis vay,” said the 
Hessian stubbornly, and then, contradicting 
himself, he continued, “I tink ve vill find him 
at der odder house.” 

“Blah! You fools,” exclaimed his com- 
panion in disgust. 

Apparently he was convinced, however, that 
the young messenger was not to he found at 
80 


A STRANGE HIDING PLACE 


the Van Pelts’, for a moment later John heard 
him opening the rear door into the barn. 

‘‘Come along,” he exclaimed to the Hessian. 

John heard the Hessian call to his men in 
German, and presently the sound of retreating 
footsteps came to his ears, and voices growing 
fainter as they faded into the distance. For 
the first time since he had crawled into the 
hole in the side of the haystack the young sol- 
dier felt at ease. His cramps, his aching limbs, 
his lack of air, all were forgotten as he heard 
his enemies withdraw. He was certain they 
would leave the Van Pelt home shortly and 
looked forward to being released by Mrs. Van 
Pelt within a very few moments. 

“My troubles will soon be over,” he mut- 
tered to himself, and then he added, “at least 
for the present.” 

This pleasing thought had scarcely passed 
through his mind when he heard a noise that 
affected him even more than the sound of the 
Hessians’ voices and the high-pitched nasal 
tones of his unidentified enemy had done. 

It was a crackling sound that constantly grew 
louder. The first instant he heard it he could 
81 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


not credit his ears. Then suddenly the faint 
smell of smoke insinuated itself into his nos- 
trils, and he realized immediately what had 
happened. The Hessians had set fire to the 
haystack. 


82 


CHAPTER VIII 


AT white’s tavern 

John did not hesitate now. He pushed aside 
the hay that had covered him, and, wriggling 
and crawling out of his hiding place, rose to 
his feet and looked about him. The sun was 
now well up, and at first, his eyes unaccustomed 
to the light, J ohn could not make out what was 
happening. 

This condition lasted but a few seconds, how- 
ever. The haystack already had become a 
seething, roaring cauldron of fire, and so in- 
tense was the heat radiated from it that John 
was forced to withdraw to a considerable dis- 
tance. He did not forget the Hessians, how- 
ever, and sought refuge behind the corn crib 
which was the furthest distance from the main 
house of any of the outbuildings. From that 
point of vantage he watched the fire, in the 
meantime keeping a watchful eye out for any 
signs of the enemy. 


83 


A PKINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Heavy smoke curled up from the burning 
hay. Flames danced and frolicked about the 
stack, and the air was filled with sparks. One 
of them alighted on the corncrib, and before 
John fairly knew what was happening it too 
was afire. Would the barn be next, and then 
the house? 

John suddenly realized that it was strange 
neither Mr. nor Mrs. Van Pelt had appeared. 
If the Hessians had departed it was not likely 
that they would remain quietly in the house 
while their buildings burned. Could it be that 
anything had happened to prevent their com- 
ing to the scene of the fire? Could it be that 
the Hessians had — ? Ugly thoughts arose in 
John’s mind, and he decided to investigate at 
once. He started for the house. 

On the way he took advantage of all the 
cover available, doing his best to conceal him- 
self from any one who might be watching from 
the direction of the road. If any one saw him 
John was not aware of it, and a few moments 
later he stood before the rear entrance to the 
house. The door was ajar, and he pushed it 
open and went in. He halted in the center 
of the kitchen floor and strained his ears for 
84 


AT WHITE’S TAVERN 


any suspicious sounds. The crackling of the 
fire could be heard faintly, but within the house 
silence reigned. 

He passed on to the front of the house, and 
in the front room a sight greeted his eyes that 
made him stop short and gasp. Mrs. Van Pelt 
sat bolt upright in one of the chairs, her hands 
bound tightly to her sides, a gag in her mouth, 
and a rope wound around her knees and around 
the chair so that she could not move. John, 
of course, released her immediately. 

^‘Where’s Mr. Van Pelt?” he demanded. 

For a moment she was unable to reply. She 
stood with her hands to her face, rubbing her 
jaws vigorously where the gag had bound them, 
don’t know,” she said finally. 

^‘Did they take him with them?” 

don’t know,” she repeated, and she 
seemed dazed. 

‘‘Have they all gone?” 

She nodded her head in assent. “I think so.” 

John waited for no more. He dashed out 
of the room and up the stairs, bound for a tour 
of the house. He did not have far to look, for 
in the first room he entered on the second floor 
he discovered Mr. Van Pelt. He was lying on 
85 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

the bed, gagged and tied hand and foot. A 
heavy rope, passed over his body and around 
under the mattress, held him fast. 

^^Are you hurt?’’ demanded John when the 
owner of the house had been released and as- 
sisted to his feet. 

^‘Only my feelings,” said Mr. Van Pelt with 
an attempt at a smile. 

^^Well,” exclaimed John, ‘H’m glad of that. 
Now, if you’ll excuse me for being so abrupt I 
must tell you that your haystack and corncrib 
are on fire.” 

Mr. Van Pelt gave John one look. ‘‘The 
German pigs,” he cried, and rushed out of the 
room. 

J ohn followed close after him, but by the time 
they reached the scene of the fire the haystack 
had burned almost to the ground, and the corn- 
crib was hopelessly ablaze. 

“There’s nothing to do about it now,” said 
Mr. Van Pelt bitterly as he watched his prop- 
erty disappearing into smoke. 

“How about the barn?” queried John. “Do 
you think it will catch too?” 

“I doubt it,” said Mr. Van Pelt. “The wind 
is blowing in the opposite direction, and it 
86 



A SIGHT GREETED HIS EYES THAT MADE HIM STOP AND GASP 



1 


AT WHITE’S TAVERN 


ought to be safe unless those fiends come hack 
and set fire to it themselves.” 

‘‘Mr. Van Pelt,” exclaimed John, “did you 
see every one in the raiding party?” 

‘ ‘ I don ’t know. I heard them coming through 
the orchard and I jumped out of bed and started 
to get into my clothes. I sent Joan down to 
warn you, and by the time I was nearly dressed 
they were at the front door. I was going to 
take a pot shot at them out of the window and 
rid the world of one or two of the German 
butchers anyway, but I realized that that 
would practically be suicide and I thought bet- 
ter of it. I decided I’d try being nice to them, 
and so I went downstairs and opened the front 
door. They were hammering on it with their 
guns and kicking it, and the minute I slid back 
the bolts they shoved inside, two of them 
grabbed me before I could do a thing and 
hustled me upstairs and tied me to the bed 
where you found me.” 

“Did you notice a man with a high-pitched, 
nasal voice?” 

“I noticed the voice,” said Mr. Van Pelt, 
“but I didn’t see the man. One of the Hessians 
was asking me questions, and a man with a voice 
87 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

like that stood outside the door and directed 
him what to ask. I don’t know why he didn’t 
come in.” 

^‘Did his voice sound at all familiar to you?” 

^‘1 don’t know that it did,” said Mr. Van 
Pelt after a moment’s consideration. ^Ht was 
a queer voice all right.” 

‘^Somebody with that kind of a queer voice 
is my worst enemy, I’m afraid,” said John. 
wonder if he stayed outside the room for fear 
you’d recognize him.” 

don’t know,” said Mr. Van Pelt slowly, 
don’t recollect any one with a voice like 
that, and yet” — ^he hesitated — ‘^now that you 
speak of it, it does seem vaguely familiar some- 
how. ’ ’ 

wonder if Mrs. Van Pelt saw the owner 
of the voice,” said John. ‘H’d like to get a 
description of him.” 

^^Well, let’s go ask her,” said Mr. Van Pelt. 
‘^There’s nothing we can do here.” He gazed 
sadly at what remained of his corncrib and 
haystack, now little more than smoldering 
ruins. They turned and retraced their steps 
to the house. 

Mrs. Van Pelt had not caught a glimpse of 
88 


AT WHITE’S TAVEEN 


tlie man with the nasal voice. She had not 
even heard him talk. When she had returned 
to the house after concealing John in the hay- 
stack two burly Hessian troopers had seized 
her, dragged her into the front room, tied and 
gagged her without any ado and left her there. 
Evidently the solution of the mystery was not 
to be found at the home of the Van Pelts that 
day. 

John was for riding on to Morristown im- 
mediately. Mr. and Mrs. Van Pelt would not 
hear of it, however. It involved too great a 
risk, they insisted. If one party of Hessians 
was in the neighborhood, why was it not reason- 
able to suppose that there were others abroad 
as w*ell? Evidently they were on the lookout 
for John, and to attempt to proceed on his 
journey in broad daylight meant almost certain 
capture to their way of thinking. 

“Wait till nightfall,” begged Mrs. Van Pelt. 
“It’s better to get there twelve hours later than 
not to get there at all.” 

This argument was unanswerable, and re- 
luctantly John gave in. It did not seem wise 
for him to remain in the house, however, for 
89 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


there was always the chance that the Hessians 
would return, particularly as they were doomed 
to disappointment in their search for the young 
messenger at the next house up the l*oad. He 
therefore retired to the shed, back in the woods 
where Mr. Van Pelt had taken his horse. 
There he passed the day, most of it in sleep- 
ing, while the Van Pelts watched for any re- 
appearance of the enemy, ready to warn their 
young friend at the first sign of danger. 

But nothing happened to disturb his solitude, 
and as evening approached Mr. Van Pelt re- 
turned to the shed with a bag of oats for the 
horse and a package of food for John, 
have news for you,’^ he announced. 

‘^What is itP’ demanded John eagerly, 
friend of ours, Robert Nostrand from 
Basking Ridge, stopped at the house an hour 
ago and said that General Lee is not with the 
army at Morristown, but staying at White’s 
Tavern at Basking Ridge. Your journey is 
shortened by several miles.” 

‘Won are sure he is there?” 

‘^Robert Nostrand said he knew it. Mrs. 
White herself, owner of the house, told him.” 
90 


AT WHITE’S TAVERN 


^^Did Mr. Nostrand see anything of the Brit- 
ish and Hessians in the neighborhood?” 

‘^Not hide nor hair. Possibly they have been 
frightened off by the close proximity of our 
army. ’ ’ 

^^Good,” exclaimed John. must be off 
at once. ’ ’ 

Mr. Van Pelt gave John careful instructions 
about the road he was to follow. He knew of 
a back road, somewhat longer than the main 
highway, but much safer, he believed, and in 
his opinion one that on that account might not 
require as much time to traverse. He described 
it in minute detail to John until he felt certain 
the young soldier had it firmly fixed in his 
mind. 

‘^Now you can be off,” he exclaimed. 

‘‘Mr. Van Pelt,” said John, “I can’t thank 
you enough for the kindness you have shown 
me, and I can’t begin to tell you how sorry 
I am to have been the cause of so much trou- 
ble.” 

“Don’t give it a thought,” said Mr. Van 
Pelt warmly. “If you really have been the 
cause of any trouble, and I’m not sure but that 
91 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

we should have encountered it anyway, it is 
all in a good cause and we are proud to have 
been of some service.” 

‘^You are very good,” said John simply. 
‘‘Please say good-by to Mrs. Van Pelt for me 
and thank her too.” He held out his hand. 
“Good-by,” he said. 

“Good-by, and good luck,” exclaimed Mr. 
Van Pelt. “Stop and see us on the way back 
if you have a chance.” 

They shook hands. A moment later John 
had mounted his horse and was threading his 
way carefully among the trees. He could see 
practically nothing and was obliged to give the 
horse his head, trusting mainly to the animaPs 
instinct to follow the narrow trail through the 
woods. A half hour later he emerged upon the 
road which Mr. Van Pelt had described to him. 
This road itself was scarcely more than a trail ; 
it was dotted with holes, lined with ruts, and 
frequently obstructed by fallen branches and 
in some cases whole trees. 

Progress on such a thoroughfare was difficult 
and slow, but John had expected this and it 
did not worry him. His main concern was to 
find the narrow trail which Mr. Van Pelt had 
92 


AT WHITE’S TAVERN 


warned him branched off the road he was fol- 
lowing some five miles from the place where 
he had emerged from the woods. He had been 
instructed to take this left-hand fork, and as 
Mr. Van Pelt had described it as being difficult 
to recognize, he kept a sharp watch for it. 
Twice he attempted to turn off at places which 
seemed to answer the description he had re- 
ceived and both times he had found himself mis- 
taken. 

Finally he became actually worried, and al- 
though for a time he would not admit it to 
himself, the moment came when he was obliged 
to confess that he had lost his way. Anger and 
despondency alternated in his mind as he re- 
alized this condition of affairs. What was he 
to do! His first impulse was to ride madly on 
without any clear idea of where he was bound, 
his desire being to get somewhere, no matter 
where it was. Sober second thought convinced 
him of the folly of such a proceeding, and he 
reined in his horse and sat there silently in the 
darkness, trying to think out some plan of ac- 
tion. If only he could find a house with some- 
body in it of whom to ask questions. But he 
had seen no sign of a habitation of any kind, 
93 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

and he remembered that Mr. Van Pelt had told 
him that no one lived along this road. 

A feeling of desperation seized him. He had 
been seriously delayed already in his progress 
to Morristown, and in case he was obliged to 
wait until morning before being able to find 
his way that would mean travel by daylight and 
increased danger of capture. 

‘‘It just canT be,’’ cried John aloud. 

He turned his horse’s head around and 
started back over the way he had come. He 
strained his eyes, striving to pierce the dark- 
ness and discover the road he was to take. 
He kept his horse at a walk, and several times 
dismounted, and on foot investigated leads 
which seemed promising. But with no success. 

“It must be farther along,” he muttered, 
and again he walked his horse in the direction 
he had taken originally. 

How many hours had elapsed since he had 
taken leave of Mr. Van Pelt he did not know, 
but he felt certain that dawn could not be long 
delayed, and every hour was precious. He 
wished he had kept to the main road and ac- 
cepted the risk of capture. At least he would 
not have lost his way if he had followed that 
94 


AT WHITE’S TAVERN 


plan, and he began to feel that Mr. Van Pelt 
was responsible for his present predicament. 
This feeling he immediately rejected as un- 
warranted, but he wanted to blame somebody. 

Then, suddenly, he spied a narrow opening 
in the trees on the left hand side of the road. 
Instinctively he felt that this was the place 
he had been looking for for so many long hours, 
and turning his horse aside he urged him for- 
ward at a trot. To his great joy the road did 
not come to an end after a short distance as 
the others had done, and he felt certain that at 
last he had found the route which had so per- 
sistently eluded him most of the night. 

About five miles of this road,” he repeated 
to himself, remembering Mr. Van Pelt’s instruc- 
tions. ‘‘Then I reach the main road and 
Whitens Tavern is only a mile distant.” 

He was soon obliged to slow his horse to a 
walk again, but he worried little now. He knew 
he was on the right road and that it would not 
be long before he came to his destination. 
Meanwhile the road wound up and down hill, 
now and again emerging from the woods into 
a clearing. The one thing that bothered him 
was the fact that the faint glow in the eastern 
95 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


sky proclaimed the near approach of sunrise. 

When he came to the main road he dis- 
mounted and tied his horse in a patch of woods 
two hundred yards distant from the highway. 
It was light enough now for him to see his way 
with reasonable ease and to observe the ap- 
proach of an enemy in time to conceal himself. 
This latter reason mainly accounted for his 
having decided to make the last stage of the 
journey on foot. 

Many times he was disturbed by the fear that 
Mr. Nostrand’s information had been incorrect 
and that he would not find General Lee at the 
tavern at all. His anxiety increased as he drew 
nearer, and when the small white inn appeared 
among the trees ahead he was so overcome by 
nervousness that he was obliged to sit down 
beside the road for several moments to quiet 
his nerves. 

This feeling did not last long, however, and 
presently he was once again walking along the 
road towards the tavern. The top of the sun 
was now visible over the rim of the horizon 
and to all intents and purposes it was as light 
as day. John wondered what he would say to 
the guards posted about the inn. He wondered 
96 


AT WHITE’S TAVEEN 

if he would have any difficulty convincing them 
that his mission was a proper one. 

This question was soon answered, for as he 
turned aside from the road to approach the 
inn he was challenged. A soldier in the butf and 
blue of the Continental Army stepped out from 
behind a tree and leveled his rifle at John. 

have a message for General Lee,” said 

John. 

‘‘From whom?” 

“General Washington.” 

The sentry was impressed by this, and low- 
ered his gun. He scrutinized John carefully. 

“Who told you General Lee was here?” he 
inquired finally. 

“A gentleman who lives in the neighbor- 
hood,” said John. “I hope his information is 
correct, for I have ridden far, — ^^all the way from 
Princeton, — and I understand the message is an 
urgent one. ’ ’ 

“Come with me,” said the sentry abruptly, 
and turned upon his heel and walked towards 
the inn without another word. John, of course, 
followed close behind. 

The sentry did not approach the front door, 
but turning the comer of the house proceeded 
97 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

around to the rear. The inn faced west so that 
the early morning rays of the sun were shining 
on the back, and there John found himself in 
the midst of a group of soldiers, six in all. 
They seemed to he in the act of making their 
morning toilets, each one awaiting his turn at 
a basin of water, which was being refilled from 
a rain barrel after each had washed his face 
and hands. 

‘‘The barrel had ice on it this morning,’’ 
John heard one of them say as he and his con- 
ductor came around the corner. 

“Well, Charley,” exclaimed one of the sol- 
diers, catching sight of John and his escort, 
“who have you there, a prisoner! A spy 
rather, I reckon, for he wears the coat belong- 
ing to our uniform.” 

“He’s just here from Princeton with a mes- 
sage from General Washington for General 
Lee,” said the sentry who had brought John in. 

“And I suppose his own name is John 
Adams,” exclaimed the soldier, which remark 
was greeted with a noisy laugh from all the 
others, who evidently looked upon the speaker 
as a wit. 

John, however, was irritated. He did not 
98 


AT WHITENS TAVERN 


relish the idea of being the butt of a silly joke. 
He could not help but feel that it was because 
of his youth that they dared to laugh at him, 
and he was particularly sensitive on that point. 
What if he was only seventeen, he had been 
chosen as the bearer of an extremely important 
message, and that proved that his superiors 
had confidence in him and took him seriously. 
It made him angry to be laughed at by a lot 
of common soldiers. 

^^You can apologize for that remark now,^^ 
he said, edging a trifie closed to the speaker, 
^^or wait until I have delivered my message and 
Idl make you apologize. 

^‘Ho ho, a spunky little fellow,’’ cried the sol- 
dier boisterously. 

‘‘You — ” John began, but got no further. 

The sound of hoofs clattering up the road 
smote upon their ears. The back door of the 
inn was thrown suddenly open, and a woman 
appeared, a wooden spoon in one hand, a salt 
shaker in the other. She was pale and wild- 
eyed. 

“The redcoats are here,” she cried in a ter- 
rified voice. 


99 


CHAPTEE IX 


DISCOURAGEMENT 

From the noise and confusion originating from 
the front of the tavern it sounded to John as 
if General Howe and half his British army must 
have arrived. He stood rooted to the ground, 
his mind a complete blank, unable to think, un- 
able to move. 

Shouts reached his ears, commands, mingled 
with the confused murmur of voices. Doors 
slammed inside the inn, he heard people running 
up and downstairs, and a table was overturned. 
It seemed to John as if he were in the midst 
of a horrible nightmare, wishing to do some- 
thing but powerless to stir. And yet through 
it all he was aware of the cawing of a crow 
flying low overhead, oblivious of the fact that 
below him was being enacted a scene in the 
great drama whose conclusion was to see the 
Thirteen Colonies free, and forming the nucleus 
of the great United States of America. It is 
100 


DISCOURAGEMENT 


curious how a trivial thing will sometimes im- 
press itself upon the mind, so strongly perhaps 
that it seems to supersede and crowd out other 
things of far more importance. So long as 
he lived J ohn never heard the cawing of a crow 
without its recalling to his mind that early 
morning scene at Basking Ridge, at Whitens 
Tavern, 

‘‘Run! Run for your lives!’’ he heard one 
of his companions cry, and suddenly he was gal- 
vanized into action. 

The ability to think did not seem to come 
back with the return of his power of locomo- 
tion, however, for without a thought he did as 
directed, and turned and ran. Like a pack of 
frightened rabbits he and his newly acquired 
companions darted across the narrow expanse 
of lawn in back of the inn and dove into the 
bushes bordering it on the opposite side. 

The message in his pocket was forgotten, — 
though obviously it would have been out of 
the question to deliver it at any time since he 
had arrived, — everything was forgotten except 
the fact that the British were there alid unless 
he made haste he would fall into their hands. 

He ran and ran. He forgot the other sol- 

101 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


diers, and presently found himself alone, and 
still running. His breath would not hold out 
forever, however, and presently he was obliged 
to halt from sheer exhaustion. So far as he 
could tell he was entirely alone, and he sank 
down in the midst of a clump of cedar trees 
to regain his wind and collect his thoughts. 

^H’m a fool,^’ he exclaimed bitterly as soon 
as he was able to think the least bit clearly. 

A moment later he began to wonder if he 
was such a fool after all. Certainly there had 
not been time for him to deliver his message 
before the redcoats had arrived, and after they 
had arrived what was there that he could have 
done ? One boy could not have driven them off. 
If he had shown fight the outcome would as- 
suredly have been capture or death. Perhaps 
running away was really the only thing to have 
done. 

This thought made John feel more comfort- 
able in his mind, though the recollection of his 
fright and panic did not tend to produce any- 
thing but a feeling of chagrin. 

‘‘Well,’^ he sighed, ^‘what next? Forget 
what has passed.’^ 

He rose to his feet, and as he did so he heard 
102 


DISCOURAGEMENT 


the sound of a company of horse approaching. 
For the first time J ohn realized that the cluster 
of trees in which he was hiding was only a few 
yards back from the road. He sank to his 
knees and peered out cautiously. 

Presently the band hove in sight. A man 
in the uniform of a British colonel rode at the 
head of a detachment of dragoons, in scarlet 
coats and white breeches. In the center was 
a man on a bay horse, bareheaded, slippers on 
his feet, his back covered merely by a blanket 
coat. He was a large man of extremely plain 
countenance and though John had never seen 
him before he recognized him at once from 
descriptions he had received and knew him for 
General Charles Henry Lee. 

The dragoons were laughing and talking and 
seemed in fine fettle. 

^‘Why notU’ thought John. ^^They have 
captured Washington’s chief aide.” 

He raised his rifle and took careful aim at 
the cavalryman who was bringing up the rear. 
Then a feeling of depression suddenly swept 
over him. ‘^What’s the use?” he muttered, 
and sinking back onto the ground he cried like 
a baby. 


103 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

He was tired and disappointed and discour- 
aged. The journey from Princeton had been 
a difficult one, and the strain on the nerves 
of a boy of seventeen, unused to the perils and 
hardships of war, had been heavy. If his mis- 
sion had ended successfully that would have 
been one thing, but to have failed, and par- 
ticularly to have failed by so narrow a margin, 
was discouraging to say the least. 

It was not long before John regained con- 
trol of himself, however, though some time 
elapsed before he attempted to stir from the 
spot where he was seated. He had no clear 
idea of what he would do next, and his plans 
for the immediate future were exceedingly 
vague. In a general way he realized that he 
should return to Princeton and report, and 
with this thought in the back of his head he 
rose to his feet. 

At first it occurred to him to return to the 
inn. That would be safe enough, he felt, for 
it did not seem likely that the British would 
remain there any longer than was necessary. 
The Continental Army at Morristown was only 
a |ew miles away, they would soon be apprised 
of General Lee’s capture and it would not be 
104 


DISCOUEAGEMENT 


safe for any small band of the enemy to remain 
in the neighborhood. 

‘‘But what’s the point of going back to the 
inn?” John asked himself. He decided that the 
place for him was Princeton, and at the earliest 
possible moment. 

With this purpose firmly fixed in his mind 
he made his way to the road and turned in 
the direction from which he had come. He 
made no attempt at concealment now. His 
spirits were so low that he did not care very 
much what happened to him, and in addition 
he had a strong feeling of confidence that none 
of the enemy was any longer in that vicinity. 
Whether his surmise was correct or not the 
fact remains that he did not meet a living soul 
along the road. He found his horse right where 
he had left him, and was presently in the saddle 
again, headed back towards Princeton. 


105 


CHAPTEE X 


BY THE DELAW ABB 

Once started on his return journey, John made 
all speed possible. He stuck boldly to the main 
road with no effort at concealment, his one idea 
being haste. He rode past the Van Pelts ^ 
house, and though he was strongly tempted to 
stop for a short time and recount his adven- 
tures to them, he checked this impulse and hur- 
ried on. 

Arrived at Princeton, he found a great change 
in the state of affairs. Nassau Hall was full 
of soldiers, soldiers hung about the Hudihras 
and The Sign of the College, loitered about the 
streets, and were quartered in many of the 
houses of the village. 

One of the first persons John met as he rode 
up the King’s Highway into Princeton was Pro- 
fes^r Houston. 

‘‘Well, John,” heUried, catching sight of the 
young soldier. 

John drew rein and dismounted, holding the 
106 


BY THE DELAWARE 


horse’s bridle in his hand. ‘Hs Captain Rob- 
bins here?” he inquired. 

^‘No,” said Professor Houston, ‘‘he is not. 
He is safely across the Delaware, I expect, — 
with what is left of the army.” 

“Has General Washington retreated that 
far?” exclaimed John in amazement. 

“He has indeed,” said Professor Houston, 
shaking his head sadly. “There is fear even 
that Philadelphia, our capital, may fall into the 
hands of the enemy. Matters are in a sorry 
state, John.” 

“So it would seem,” said John. “Edward 
and Thomas are with General Washington, I 
presume.” 

“Yes, and your friend Samuel Smith too. 
Lord Stirling^ is in command of our army 
here, but how long he will be able to remain is 
a problem. Retreat seems to be the order of 
the day for our armies now. ’Tis said General 
Washington has stated that he will retreat be- 
hind the Susquehanna River if necessary, and 
if forced to it, even behind the Alle^eny 
Mountains.” ^ 

1 Lord Stirling was captured by the British in the Battle of 
Long Island, August 27, 1776. Within a month he was ex- 
changed for Governor Brown of Providence Island. 

107 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


‘^He is now across the Delaware!’’ 

‘‘Crossed four days ago, I understand.” 

“They must have left here the day I started 
for Morristown, ’ ’ said John. ‘ ‘ Things are hap- 
pening thick and fast.” 

“Nothing is happening in the College of 
New Jersey,” said Professor Houston. “A 
handful of students only are left, those who 
for one reason or another are unable to bear 
arms. We plan to make a pretext of holding 
classes, but it can be little more than make- 
believe. The college is now a barracks, as you 
will soon see for yourself.” 

“I’d better report, I reckon,” said John, and 
took leave of his former instructor. 

Nassau Hall was now a barracks as Profes- 
sor Houston had said. It swarmed with sol- 
diers, and was the scene of hustling activity. 
In his very own room John discovered a dozen 
infantrymen sitting around on the floor clean- 
ing their rifles. He did not undertake to ex- 
plain to them that he had once lived there, 
however, but kept on in quest of some officer 
to whom he could report, and who would in- 
struct him what to do next. Besides he had 
no interest in the room now. All his meager 
108 


BY THE DELAW AEE 


stock of belongings had been removed previous 
to his enlistment and stored at the home of 
Mrs. Leonard in the village. 

Presently J ohn found an officer and succeeded 
in getting his attention for a moment. 

^‘Wait here,’’ the officer told him after he 
had heard a few words of the young messen- 
ger’s story. John waited, and presently the 
officer appeared in the doorway of a nearby 
room and told him to come in. A moment later 
John was ushered into the presence of General 
Lord Stirling himself. 

The general had not previously been apprised 
of General Lee’s capture and urged John to 
give him the fullest details at his command. 
General Stirling listened attentively, his face 
showing no sign of emotion, but when John 
had finished his story he turned to his aide, 
standing beside him. 

A stupid performance on Lee’s part,” he re- 
marked dryly. 

The aide shrugged his shoulders and said 
nothing. 

‘^However,” continued General Stirling, 
believe it will all work out for the best. Israel 
Putnam will succeed to his command, and 
109 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

so we shall at least have a man who will 
obey orders and upon whom we can count. 

He turned to John. Thank you for your 
report/’ he said. 

John was afraid the general was going to 
take him to task for not having delivered the 
message, but neither by word or deed did he 
show any sign of displeasure. He seemed to 
appreciate the fact that the young messenger 
had done his best, and had failed, not because 
of any fault of his own, but rather through 
force of circumstances. 

‘^You had better refresh yourself and then 
rejoin your regiment on the right bank of the 
Delaware,” he said. 

John saluted and withdrew. His horse was 
tethered outside and he mounted it and rode 
to the home of Mrs. Leonard in the village. 
He put the horse in her stable and then pre- 
sented himself at the door of the house. Mrs. 
Leonard was delighted to see him and welcomed 
him cordially. She had her colored servant 
bring in water from the well so that John could 
bathe, provided him with a change of under- 
garments, and supplied him with a bountiful 
repast. She also wanted him to sleep for a 
110 


BY THE DELAWARE 


time, but while he was extremely weary he felt 
that it was his duty to hasten back to his regi- 
ment as fast as he could. 

It was late afternoon when he approached 
the banks of the Delaware River. He reached 
the river some five miles above Trenton, and 
although he had been warned that the neigh- 
borhood was infested by British and Hessians, 
he had seen no sign of them. He left his horse 
at the home of Mr. Laning, an ardent patriot, 
and a friend of Mr Nash, Edward ^s father. 

suppose Idl never see him again,’’ said 
John, ‘‘but I can’t get him across the river.” 

“I’m not sure that you can get across your- 
self,” said Mr. Laning. “Washington’s men 
have taken every boat to be had.” 

John’s face fell. “But I must get across,” 
he exclaimed. “I have a report to make and 
I must get back to my regiment.” 

“Can you manage a canoe!” 

John looked at the river. The current was 
swift and the stream was filled with floating 
ice. 

“I can manage a canoe, but I’m not sure 
that I can manage one in water like that.” 

“There is a canoe in the hayloft of the bam,” 
111 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


said Mr. Laning. ‘^The soldiers did not take it, 
because they thought it of no value with the ice 
in the river. Besides, it is leaky, but it is all 
I can offer. You are welcome to it if you want 
it.^’ 

John considered a moment. suppose it’s 
my only chance,” he said, half to himself. 
guess I’ll have to try it.” 

^‘Come up to the barn with me then,” said 
Mr. Laning, ‘^and help me carry it down. I’ll 
fetch a paddle from the house.” 

A few moments later the canoe was resting 
on the river bank, and John stood beside it, 
paddle in hand. Mr. Laning looked at him curi- 
ously. 

‘‘Not very good weather for canoeing,” he 
remarked. 

“No,” said John soberly. 

If he had any doubts about attempting the 
dangerous passage, however, they were soon 
dispelled. Down the road towards the house 
came a detachment of Hessians, an officer at 
their head, the men marching two abreast. 
John took one look at them, flung his rifle into 
the canoe, pushed the frail birch bark craft 
112 


BY THE DELAWARE 

down to the water edge, got aboard and 
pushed off. 

The current caught the how of the canoe and 
swung it around. He dug his paddle deep into 
the water and paddled furiously. The canoe 
shot out into the stream and the battle with 
the ice and the current was on in earnest. John 
gave one quick glance over his shoulder. The 
Hessians had spied him, broken ranks, and were 
running at top speed towards the river. He 
could hear them calling to him, presumably to 
return and give himself up, though the German 
words had no definite meaning for him. 

He exerted every ounce of strength he pos- 
sessed, and the distance between him and the 
shore lengthened rapidly, although the current 
was constantly bearing the light boat down- 
stream. A bullet kicked up a jet of water close 
beside him and he heard the sound of a rifle 
shot from the shore. Another shot followed 
close after, then another and another. It 
seemed to John as if bullets rained all about 
him. His arms ached and his breath was al- 
most gone, but he worked as he had never 
worked before, paddling with all his strength, 
113 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

resting on one knee and putting all the weight 
of his body behind each stroke. 

The shouts of the Hessians grew fainter, and 
the rifle shots sounded less frequently. John 
decided he was getting out of range and began 
to feel easier. He relaxed his etforts for a 
moment and a rifle ball suddenly struck the 
main thwart of the canoe, nearly upsetting it. 
The thwart was splintered, causing John to 
fear that the canoe might buckle and collapse. 
But there was only one thing to do, and that 
was to paddle with all his might and main. 

As he approached the center of the stream 
the current grew swifter and the ice increased. 
Huge blocks of it came careening along, rolling 
and tumbling first one way then the other, with 
every lurch they made threatening the safety, 
and even the existence of the tiny craft. The 
water was rough and the canoe shipped water 
constantly. The waves retarded its progress, 
tossed it about like a billet of wood, swung it 
this way and that, seemingly doing everything 
in their power to make the voyage dangerous 
and difficult. 

It required all of John’s watermanship to 
114 


BY THE DELAWAEE 


avoid the ice and make progress towards the 
west shore. Darkness too was coming on rap- 
idly, making it increasingly difficult to see the 
floating ice, for many of the cakes scarcely 
showed above the surface and were nearly of 
the color of the water. 

But the Hessians were not shooting at him 
any more and he was drawing closer and closer 
to the opposite shore. He could now make 
out the figure of a man standing on the bank, 
a rifle over his shoulder. ‘‘A sentry,^’ John 
decided. 

The current had carried him a half mile 
downstream from the spot whence he had em- 
barked. The worst of the crossing was past, 
however, and John pointed the nose of the 
canoe for the lea side of the tiny point of land 
on which the sentry was standing. And as he 
approached safety, with the Hessians far out 
of range and the worst danger from the ice 
floes behind him, he wondered if he were going 
to be able to reach shore. His arms were so 
tired they did not seem to be any longer a 
part of him. His muscles were so sore and 
sensitive that it seemed to John that even 
115 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

thinking about them made them ache. His legs 
were knotted with cramps and the palms of 
his hands blistered, raw and bleeding. 

‘^But it^s only a few hundred feet more,*' 
he told himself, and clenched his teeth for the 
final effort. 

The sentry had been standing quietly on the 
shore watching him. Suddenly he swung the 
butt of his rifle to his shoulder, took aim at 
John and fired point blank. 

John was not so frightened by this unex- 
pected action as he was amazed. His aston- 
ishment was so great that he almost dropped 
his paddle. The bullet whined past his head 
and struck the water behind him with a sharp 
smack. In the fast-gathering darkness he could 
see the sentry reloading his rifle in feverish 
haste, presumably for another shot. 

Hallo, there," shouted John. What's the 
matter with you ? ' ' 

The soldier on the shore continued his load- 
ing, John's words seeming to hasten his efforts 
rather than to retard them. 

‘‘What's the matter with you?" shouted 
John again. “I'm one of your own men." 

If the soldier heard he gave no sign, and 
116 


BY THE DELAWARE 


for an instant John wondered if the British 
had succeeded in crossing the river and were 
now in possession of the right bank. Was this 
soldier who was firing at him one of the en- 
emy? Could it he that he was approaching an 
enemy encampment? This doubt was soon set 
at rest, however, for several soldiers, attracted 
by the sound of the shot, came running down 
to the bank, and, difficult as it was to see, John 
could easily make out their Continental uni- 
forms. 

Meanwhile the sentry had reloaded his gun 
and was raising it to his shoulder. 

^‘DonT shoot, shouted John. ^‘I^m in the 
Jersey militia.’’ 

The soldiers attracted to the scene arrived 
at the shore at that moment, and whether it 
was his own call or something one of them said 
John did not know for a long time, but at any 
rate the man lowered his rifle and let the butt 
of it fall to the ground beside him. 

John had forgotten his sore hands and mus- 
cles now. He dug his paddle into the water, 
and a few moments later ran the prow of the 
canoe up on a pebbly beach. Two of the sol- 
diers were waiting for him and held the canoe 
117 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


while they assisted him ashore. The sentry, 
however, had not moved from his original po- 
sition a few yards distant, and John^s first act 
after stepping ashore and securing his rifle was 
to hasten towards him. 

‘^What’s the matter with youP’ he demanded 
angrily. ^^What do you think you are doing 
thought you were a redcoat,’^ said the 
man sullenly. His voice was high-pitched, nasal 
and rasping. 

John took a step closer and peered into his 
face. 

It was Robinson, ex-steward of The College 
of New Jersey. 


118 


CHAPTEE XI 


IN CAMP 

For a moment John was so angry he was 
scarcely able to speak. He spluttered and 
choked, swallowed hard and swallowed once 
again. He shook his fist in Eobinson’s face, 
while his own countenance grew fiery red, and 
his eyes snapped. 

^^You, you, you — ’’ he gasped finally. He 
was unable to complete the sentence. 

sorry, said Eobinson in his high- 
pitched nasal voice. made a mistake and I 
apologize.’’ 

‘^You certainly did make a mistake,” cried 
John angrily. 

‘Hn the dusk I thought your coat was red,” 
said Eobinson. 

You thought one of the British would paddle 
straight across the river into the hands of the 
enemy, I suppose, ’ ’ said John. ^ ‘ You think that 
seems plausible, do you?” 

119 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


‘ ‘ I told you I made a mistake, ^ ^ Robinson in- 
sisted. also said I was sorry and I donT 
intend to repeat. ’ ^ 

‘‘Come along, one of the soldiers urged 
John. “You can settle with him later.’’ 

“I’ll see you later all right,” said John to 
the ex-steward. “No one need worry about 
that.” 

He turned away and followed the soldiers 
through the woods towards the camp. 

“You knew him before?” one of them asked. 

“I did,” said John shortly. 

“You don’t seem to like him very well,” and 
the man chuckled softly. 

“Huh.” 

John offered to say nothing more, and they 
proceeded in silence to the spot where the camp 
was located. The camp fires were lighted, and 
the soldiers gathered about them were heaping 
on the wood, and drawing as close to them 
as they could in order to gain the benefit of 
the warmth. The flickering, dancing flames 
showed most of the men to be poorly clad, many 
lacked coats, many were in rags, and all of 
them seemed to be shivering and cold. 

120 


IN CAMP 


After a considerable search John found Cap- 
tain Robbins and made his report. The officer 
listened closely to every word and then plied 
the young soldier with numerous questions. 
When John had answered them all to the best 
of his ability Captain Robbins dismissed him, 
and directed him to the spot where his regi- 
ment was located. 

Edward, Thomas and Samuel Smith were 
huddled together over a fire, eating their sup- 
per. John recognized them all in the firelight 
before he himself was visible, and walking up 
quietly behind them he accosted them suddenly, 
in a high-pitched nasal voice. 

“And probably hang for it too, you scurvy 
young rebels.’^ 

His three friends jumped as if a swarm of 
bees had suddenly appeared amongst them. 
They were not slow, however, in recognizing 
the speaker. 

“John,’’ they cried in chorus, and sprang 
upon him joyously. 

When the violence of their greeting had sub- 
sided they invited him to share their meal with 
them. 


121 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘Well, I should say so,’’ exclaimed John. 
“I’ve had no food since leaving Mrs. Leonard’s 
house in Princeton this morning.” 

This remark called forth groans from his 
companions. 

“What’s the matter?” demanded John in 
surprise. “Mrs. Leonard has excellent food. 
Why should you groan?” 

“That’s just the trouble,” said Edward. 
“The thought of her food and the contrast with 
our poor fare is enough to make any one 
groan.” 

“You are complainers, ” said John. 

“Not really,” exclaimed Samuel Smith hast- 
ily. “The rations are scanty and poor though. 
We who have been in the army for only a few 
days do not complain much, but most of the 
soldiers are in a dreadful state of mind. 
They’re cold, and they’re hungry, and they’re 
down-hearted and discouraged and things are 
in a sad state.” He raised his arms above his 
head and shrugged his massive shoulders. 

“Yes,” said Edward, “and the term of en- 
listment of most of the men expires December 
thirty-first. We shall soon have no army left.” 

“I heard some good news this afternoon, 
122 


IN CAMP 


though/^ Thomas exclaimed, ‘‘and that is that 
General Mifflin is to join us presently with over 
two thousand of the Pennsylvania militia.’^ 

“What good are militia against British reg- 
ulars?’’ demanded Edward despondently. 

“Come, come,” urged Samuel Smith, “this 
is no way to welcome John hack. He’ll think 
we are as discouraged as the majority of the 
others. Give him some of that food, Edward, 
and then we’ll get him to relate the story of 
his trip to Morristown.” 

“First let me ask a question,” said John. 
“Have Fleetmann and Arthur Try on and Eob- 
inson been here all the time I have been away?” 

“Why do you ask that?” inquired Thomas, 
and he and Edward and Samuel Smith ex- 
changed glances. 

“Answer my question first,” said John. 

“Well,” said Thomas, “Arthur has been 
around all the time, but we haven’t seen the 
other two.” 

“Thanks,” said John. “Now I’ll tell my 
story.” 

Samuel Smith heaped more wood upon the 
fire, the four soldiers unrolled the blankets from 
their packs and, wrapped close in them, sat in a 
123 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


circle on the ground while John told the story 
of his journey. 

His three companions listened with the closest 
attention, and when he related the incident of 
his hiding in the haystack and hearing the fa- 
miliar voice they leaned forward with one ac- 
cord so as not to miss a word of the narrative. 
No one interrupted, however, or made any com- 
ment until he had entirely completed his tale. 
The story of Robinson’s firing at him made 
them all draw in their breath involuntarily. 
For a moment they sat in silence. 

‘Ht couldn’t have been Robinson at the Van 
Pelts’,” said Thomas finally. ‘Ht must have 
been Pleetmann. He’s the man we want.” 

‘‘How do you know?” demanded Edward. 

“Well,” said Thomas, “if it was Robinson 
how could he have got back here so soon?” 

“John got back, didn’t he?” Edward in- 
quired. 

“But Robinson must have been here some 
time ahead of him, ’ ’ said Thomas. ‘ ‘ How could 
he have made the trip so much faster than 
John?” 

“I went to Basking Ridge,” said John. 
“Maybe he didn’t.” 


124 


IN CAMP 


‘ ‘ Exactly, ’ ’ Edward exclaimed. ^ ^ That would 
explain it.’^ 

‘‘Perhaps you’re right,” Thomas admitted. 
“You seem to think so anyway, don’t you, 
John?” 

“You say Arthur Try on has been here all the 
time?” John inquired. “If that is the case I 
guess we can eliminate him, so that it must have 
been either Fleetmann or Eobinson. The man 
beside the haystack said he had seen me ride 
out of Princeton, and I saw Arthur and Eob- 
inson and Fleetmann, all three of them, just 
as I was leaving. If Arthur was here all 
the time he couldn’t have been at the Van 
Pelts’, so it must have been one of the other 
two.” 

“All of which sounds reasonable,” exclaimed 
Samuel Smith, stretching his fingers out to- 
wards the fire, which had died down to a bed 
of glowing coals. 

“What are we going to do about it?” said 
Edward. 

“Just what we’ve been doing,” said Samuel 
Smith. “Sit tight, say nothing and keep our 
eyes and ears wide open.” 

“Neither one of them has done anything to 
125 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


injure the army as yet/^ said Thomas. 
lease as far as we know.^^ 

^ ‘ Capturing me and my message would be no 
loss, I take it,^’ said John with a laugh. ‘‘You 
are very complimentary, Thomas. ’ ^ 

“You know what I meant, said Thomas 
hastily. 

“Surely I do,’^ said John. “But simply be- 
cause neither one of them has done anything 
so far doesnT mean much. Perhaps the proper 
time has not yet arrived.^’ 

“Well, Idl tell you,^’ Edward began when 
Samuel Smith uttered a sharp hiss of warning. 
Some one was approaching the fire. 

The newcomer proved to be Arthur Tryon, 
who until a few moments previous had been 
an object of grave suspicion along with Fleet- 
mann and Robinson. 

“Ho there, John,’’ he exclaimed. “Captain 
Robbins told me you were back and I thought 
I’d come and see if you have any news of 
Princeton. ’ ’ 

“Not a great deal,” said John. “I was there 
only a short time, but long enough, I will ad- 
mit, to observe that great changes have taken 
126 


IN CAMP 


place in the past week. One would scarcely 
think a college had ever been located there.’’ 

‘‘Lord Stirling is there with a detachment, 
isn’t he?” asked Arthur. 

“Yes,” said John. 

“The town is swarming with soldiers, I im- 
agine. ’ ’ 

“Crowded with them,” said John. 

“They’ll soon be joining us, I suppose?” said 
Arthur. “That’s what we’re all hoping any- 
way. ’ ’ 

He sat down on a log alongside Samuel Smith 
and rubbed the palms of his hands together over 
the coals. He was a black-haired, black-eyed 
young man, with a swarthy complexion, un- 
usually white teeth, and extraordinarily heavy 
wrists and ankles. His neck was short and set 
close upon his shoulders, giving the impression 
of great physical strength. 

“I don’t know,” said John. “I had a talk 
with Lord Stirling, but he didn’t consult me 
about his plans for the future.” 

“Naturally not,” said Arthur laughingly. 

“John had quite an exciting trip to Morris- 
town,” said Edward. 


127 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

^‘I didnT know said Arthur. ^^Tell 

me about it. lUs pretty country up that way, 
isnT itr' 

‘‘None prettier in the colonies,^’ said John, 
and then he repeated the main features of his 
journey to Arthur, who was greatly astonished 
to hear of General Lee’s capture. 

“What a blow,” he exclaimed. “I suppose 
General Putnam will succeed to his command. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ So Lord Stirling thought, ’ ’ s-aid J ohn. ‘ ‘ He 
regards him highly, I think, from the way he 
spoke of him.” 

“A fine man, I guess,” said Arthur. “We 
can count on him joining us soon, I’m sure. 
We may have an army here yet.” 

He rose from his seat on the log, said good 
night and presently the four friends were left 
together once more. 

“What’s the matter, Samuel?” Edward de- 
manded of Samuel Smith, who had not spoken 
a word while Arthur Tryon had been with them, 
and who now sat in silence, huddled in his 
blanket, his chin close upon his chest. 

“I was just thinking,” he said. “Trying to 
decide whether you ought to have asked John 
128 


IN CAMP 


to tell Arthur about his trip. WeVe all been 
rather suspicious of him, you know.’^ 

‘‘But surely you suspect him no longer, do 
you!^’ Edward exclaimed in surprise. “I 
thought we had definitely agreed that his inno- 
cence had been established.” 

“I know,” Samuel Smith agreed, “you are 
quite right. I myself am convinced that our 
suspicions of him were unfounded, but we did 
suspect him so recently that I suppose I can’t 
get used to regarding him in any other light. 
I do believe, however, that it is a poor plan to 
talk very much before any one. ’ ’ 

“I agree with that,” exclaimed Edward, 
“and I admit I had no business to ask John 
to tell his story.” 

“The fault was mine for telling it,” said 
John. “I could have declined without great 
difficulty.” 

“Forget it,” Samuel Smith advised. “Let’s 
get some sleep.” 


129 


CHAPTER XII 


BY THE RIVER 

Two days later John and Edward were down 
by the river. It was a cold day, no wind was 
blowing, and the air was bracing and clear. 
The two boys had some free time in the after- 
noon and were employing it in a stroll along the 
shore. 

had a curious experience this morning,’’ 
said Edward. ‘‘I was walking along in back 
of headquarters and I saw a fellow ahead of 
me I thought was Arthur Tryon. In fact I 
was sure of it, and I hurried to catch up with 
him, and when I did overtake him I gave him 
a rousing slap on the back.” 

Edward ceased speaking and began to 
laugh. 

‘^Welir’ John demanded. 

^‘It wasn’t Arthur at all,” said Edward. 
‘^The man faced around and I discovered it 
to be some one I had never seen before. But 
130 


BY THE RIVER 


I give you my word he looked enough like 
Arthur to be his twin/’ 

‘H’ve done things like that,” said John, ‘‘and 
I don’t think there is anything makes one feel 
so foolish.” 

“Nothing,” Edward agreed. “I just felt 
kind of flat and I was so embarrassed I could 
scarcely apologize.” 

“Do you know who the man is I” 

“I have no idea.” 

“We’ll have to ask Arthur about it,” said 
John with a laugh, and then the smile suddenly 
died on his lips and he gripped his companion 
fiercely by the wrist, and drew him behind a 
group of cedar trees. 

“What’s the matter?” demanded Edward. 

“Look!” 

John pointed towards the river. Around a 
point of land appeared a rowboat manned by 
a single oarsman. He was rowing upstream, 
and every few strokes he stopped and rested 
on his oars, while he glanced about him fur- 
tively. The two boys watched him breathlessly, 
not daring to speak and afraid to move lest 
the oarsman discover them. After a moment 
he dipped his oars into the water again, and 
131 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


with a few powerful strokes sent the flat-bot- 
tomed boat skimming over the river. 

Presently he stopped again and glanced about 
him in all directions. Then, as before, he re- 
sumed his rowing, and this time he kept at it, 
and he worked hard. Under the impulse of 
his rhythmic strokes the boat flew over the 
water and presently was lost to sight behind a 
jut of land farther up the river. 

Then, and then only, did John and Edward 
dare to move. Still without saying anything, 
but by common consent, they left their place 
of concealment and ran at top speed towards 
the point behind which the boat had disap- 
peared. As they neared the spot they slackened 
their pace, and, crouching low like Indians, they 
skulked along, keeping every bit of cover be- 
tween them and the river. Finally they reached 
their destination, and, hiding behind a large 
buttonwood tree, they peered around the trunk, 
out over the river. 

‘‘There he goes,^^ whispered Edward. 

The oarsman was still urging his craft up- 
stream, still hugging the shore. 

Suddenly the boat’s course was changed. It 
turned sharply and started straight across the 
132 


BY THE RIVER 


river. John and Edward both gasped invol- 
untarily at this maneuver, and then they turned 
and looked each other solemnly in the eye. 

‘ ‘ Fleetmann, ’ ’ said Edward in a low voice. 

‘^WhaFs he doing, sneaking off like thisT’ 
demanded John. 

On their way back to camp the two boys met 
Robinson, the ex-steward, one of their suspects, 
although after seeing Fleetmann start across 
the river in such a mysterious manner they had 
all but decided that after all he was the man 
for them to watch. 

John had not forgotten Robinson’s firing at 
him when he was approaching the Pennsylvania 
shore in the canoe, however. In fact he had 
been seeking an opportunity to talk with him 
about it, but previous to this moment had not 
been so favored. 

As Robinson approached John placed him- 
self squarely across his path. 

‘‘Good afternoon, Mr. Robinson,” he said. 

The ex-steward looked at him coldly. “Good 
afternoon, ’ ’ he said, and tried to turn aside and 
pass. John, however, shifted his position so 
as to confront him again. 

133 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

hope you are not in a hurry,’’ he said. 
^‘I’m sure you’re not.” 

‘^On the contrary, it happens that I am in 
a hurry, ’ ’ returned Robinson, ^ ‘ and I will thank 
you to stand aside.” 

^‘I ask only a moment of your time,” said 
John. His black eyes were fixed unwaveringly 
upon Robinson’s face, his lips were tight drawn, 
and he spoke in a crisp even tone. 

haven’t a moment to waste,” said Robin- 
son. ‘‘Please stand aside.” He was consider- 
ably taller and larger than John and he looked 
down upon the slight, wiry boy who blocked 
his path. 

“Answer me just one question,” said John. 

“Please stand aside,” reiterated Robinson, 
the anger in his tone emphasizing the high- 
pitched, nasal quality of his voice. 

“Why did you shoot at me the other day?” 

“I told you then and I also told you I would 
not repeat my reason again. Will you please 
stand aside?” 

“Your reason is not satisfactory to me,” said 
John. 

“It is the only one I shall give.” 

“In other words,” said John tauntingly, 
134 


BY THE RIVER 


‘‘you admit that it is not the correct one.’’ 

“I do not intend to engage in an argument 
with any silly boy,” said Robinson, his face 
now white with rage. “Let me pass.” 

“Let. him pass, John,” urged Edward. 

“If a man fires a rifle at me I am entitled 
to know why he did it,” said John between his 
teeth. “I demand a satisfactory explanation. 
He says he mistook me for a redcoat. If he 
did he’s either near-sighted or stupid, and I 
give him credit for being neither. In other 
words, I think he’s a liar.” 

At this word Robinson uttered an exclama- 
tion of rage, and with his clenched fist struck 
fiercely at the boy who blocked his path. John 
was too quick for him, however, and ducked 
the blow, which passed harmlessly over his 
head. Robinson was thoroughly aroused now, 
and he struck again at John, first with one hand, 
then the other. Both of these blows John 
evaded and he danced nimbly about in front of 
the ex-steward, watching him as a hawk does 
a toad, smiling at him, taunting him. 

“You don’t like it when I tell you the truth, 
do you?” he sneered. 

Robinson made no reply. He was breathing 
135 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

like an angry bull, his face was livid, and he 
rushed at John, his eyes blazing, his lips drawn 
back from his teeth, the personification of rage 
and hatred. Meanwhile John danced about him 
in a circle, always facing him. He himself had 
struck no blows, had had no opportunity to do 
so, and he feared to close with his antagonist, 
who was so much stronger and heavier than he 
that he would have been no match for him at 
all if they should have come to grips. 

Edward, meanwhile, had backed away out of 
range, and was observing the fight from a dis- 
tance of twenty-five feet or more. His first 
impulse had been to rush in and try to stand 
between the two, but he had hesitated, and 
now his chance was gone. He was distressed 
about the whole atfair, land he was fearful of 
what might happen to John in case Robinson 
ever got his hands on him. 

‘‘Youil soon get tired running around like 
this,’^ said John, who was himself becoming 
rather short of breath. 

For answer Robinson made a furious rush 
at him, murder in his eyes. John stepped 
quickly aside, ducked, and then, straightening 
up suddenly, shot his fist out and caught the 
136 


BY THE EIVER 


ex-steward squarely behind the ear. Robinson 
was off his balance when the blow fell and its 
impact sent him reeling. He shot off crazily 
to one side, on one foot, his arms waving like 
a Dutch windmill, trying desperately to regain 
his balance. But to no purpose. A projecting 
root caught his foot and he fell heavily to the 
ground. As he fell his head struck a stone and 
he lay like a log, unconscious. 

John was now thoroughly alarmed. There 
had been no thought in his mind of disabling 
his opponent, and the fear that Robinson was 
seriously hurt caused him great concern. He 
immediately sprang to the side of the prostrate 
steward, took his head in his lap, and unfastened 
his stock. 

‘‘See if you can get some water from the 
river, Edward, he cried to his companion. 

Edward hastened to the river bank, and a 
moment later returned with his hat filled with 
water. It leaked out rapidly, but there was 
sufficient for John to dip his kerchief in it and 
sop it onto the spot on Robinson’s head where 
the stone had struck it. The wound was bleed- 
ing freely and the ex-steward’s hair was al- 
ready clotted and matted with blood. John 
137 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

cleansed it as best be could, and doused tbe 
cold water on the back of the unconscious man’s 
neck. 

Presently Robinson opened his eyes. 

‘‘How do you feel?” John inquired. 

“Where am II” said Robinson dazedly. 

“You’ll be all right in a moment,” said John, 
who did not wish to enter into any explanations 
or discussions just at that time. 

“ We ’re going to take you back to camp, ’ ’ said 
Edward, “The doctor will fix you up in no 
time. ’ ’ 

Robinson looked from one boy to the other. 
He was fast regaining possession of his facul- 
ties, and once it looked as if he was about to 
start for John again, but apparently the mere 
thought of exertion was too much for him, and 
with a sigh he sank back weakly. The bleeding 
had almost ceased, but it had left him weak 
and unable to rise from the ground unassisted. 
When Edward and John started to help him 
to his feet he drew away, the look of rage again 
flashing into his eyes. It was no use, however. 
He could not move alone, and there was no one 
else to help him. He seemed to resign himself 
to the conditions under which he found himself, 
138 


BY THE EIVER 


and presently held out a hand to each boy and 
permitted them to draw him to his feet. 

He had spoken no word since his first ques- 
tion. The expression of his face showed that 
he now remembered what had taken place and 
that he resented having to accept assistance 
from the two boys who now supported him, 
one on each side. But there was no help for 
it, and he gritted his teeth, said nothing, and 
walked along as best he could. 

Their progress was necessarily slow, but 
eventually they came to camp, and John and 
Edward turned their charge over to the doc- 
tor. Their appearance in camp caused no com- 
ment or any particular attention. So many of 
the men were sick and so many were wounded 
that the sight of a sick or wounded soldier was 
such a common occurrence that scarcely any 
one paid any attention. Further, most of the 
men were so low-spirited and down-hearted 
themselves that if the truth be known they cared 
little about the sutferings and hardships of 
their comrades. 

‘‘A slight accident,’’ said John to the doctor, 
and the doctor asked no questions. Nor did 
Robinson otfer any explanation. 

139 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

John and Edward left him in the doctor’s 
care and went back to their quarters. 

Quite a punch you’ve got,” said Samuel 
Smith to John when Edward had related the 
story of the afternoon’s encounter. ‘‘I hope 
you’re not going to get angry at me.” 

^Hf I were angry at you I think I’d restrain 
myself,” said John with a smile, looking at his 
powerfully built friend. 

Edward, meanwhile, had seated himself on a 
log nearby and was engaged in the perusal of 
a slip of paper he had drawn from his pocket. 
His brows were knitted and his face bore a 
puzzled expression. Presently he arose, walked 
over to John and handed the paper to him. 

‘‘What do you make of this?” he inquired. 

J ohn took the proffered slip of paper, turned 
it over in his hand, and then read what was 
written on it. His face assumed the same puz- 
zled expression that Edward’s had had. He 
read it a second time. 

“Where did you get this?” he asked. 

“I picked it up when you were holding Rob- 
inson’s head in your lap,” said Edward. “It 
was lying on the ground beside you, and I put 
it in my pocket without reading it or without 
140 


BY THE EIVER 


thinking about it for that matter. I only re- 
membered it a moment ago.^’ 

‘‘You read it/’ said John, passing it over to 
Samuel Smith. 

“You found it on the ground beside Eobin- 
son?” he asked, turning to Edward once more. 

“Yes. I saw it lying there, and unconsciously 
I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket. ’ ’ 

“Do you suppose Eobinson wrote it?” de- 
manded John suddenly. 

“I wonder,” said Edward. 

Arthur Tryon came along at that moment, 
and halted in front of the three friends. 

‘ ‘ My, but you all look serious, ’ ’ he exclaimed. 
“What is it, a council of war and what have 
you decided the army should do next?” 

“It’s a council all right,” said John, “but 
of what we don’t know exactly. Show Arthur 
the paper and let’s get his opinion.” 

Samuel Smith handed it over to Arthur with- 
out a word. 

“Eead it aloud,” suggested Edward. 

“With pleasure,” said Arthur smilingly, and 
he ran his eye rapidly over the written lines. 
John looked at Arthur curiously. Whenever 
he heard him speak he could not help but be 
141 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


reminded of the voice that had spoken so 
harshly to them that July evening through the 
window of Nassau Hall, — to be more exact per- 
haps, he was reminded of Fleetmann and Rob- 
inson, and of one of them in particular. He 
wondered which one. Since Arthur had been 
cleared of any suspicion himself John had 
wanted to tell him about the whole affair, to 
laugh with him about the part Arthur himself 
had taken in it, and possibly glean from him 
some information which might be helpful in 
clearing up the mystery. 

Arthur cleared his throat. ^‘The communi- 
cation is not addressed to any one, nor does it 
bear any signature,’’ he said. 

‘^Read it,” said Edward. 

Arthur read as follows: '^You will recall that 
I promised to gain the information we wanted 
and have it in your hands before the first of 
the new year, I am encouraged to think I shall 
not he obliged to disappoint you, Withi/n the 
week 1 hope to be able to notify you that ar- 
rangements are complete and that the business 
will be concluded to our entire satisfaction,*^ 

^‘What does it mean?” Samuel Smith in- 
quired. 


142 


BY THE RIVER 


“That I canT say,’^ Arthur replied. “And 
I am particularly puzzled because I have no 
idea regarding the person who wrote it or what 
his motives were in doing so. It might mean 
any one of several things.’’ 

“That’s true,” said John, “and of course you 
are not acquainted with the circumstances un- 
der which it was found. We have a suspicion 
who wrote it. You have not. We also have a 
suspicion as to why he wrote it. You have 
not. You are therefore in a position to express 
an entirely unprejudiced opinion and tell us 
how it strikes you who are entirely new to the 
matter. ’ ’ 

“Your cousin. Judge Stirling, could not have 
summed up the case any better,” said Arthur, 
with a bow. “You are a credit to Nassau HaU.” 

“Give us your opinion,” said John. “This 
is business.” 

“I know it is,” said Arthur, and his manner 
became serious at once. “My opinion, perhaps 
I should say impression, for the whole thing is 
new to me, is that this note sounds suspiciously 
like the work of a spy, some one in our army 
it may be who is seeking information to pass 
onto the enemy.” 


143 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Silence greeted his words. Samuel Smith, 
John and Edward exchanged glances and then 
all concentrated their gaze upon Arthur. 

can see from your expressions that per- 
haps my opinion is the same as yours, ’ ’ he said 
with a smile which disclosed his even white 
teeth. ‘^Am I to he favored with the name of 
the party under suspicion U’ 

^‘Why — John began, when Samuel Smith 
interrupted him. 

‘‘For the present,’’ he said, “it seems to me 
only fair that we should not disclose his name. 
After all, we have suspicions only, and we may 
be doing some one an injustice.” 

‘ ‘ Of course, ’ ’ said Arthur readily. ‘ ‘ I under- 
stand. ’ ’ 

“It isn’t because we don’t trust you,” said 
John hastily, always afraid of hurting some 
one’s feelings. 

“Don’t worry about that for a moment,” 
laughed Arthur. “I fully appreciate your feel- 
ing in the matter and I think you are quite 
right about it. And now I must be moving on. 
If there is anything I can do to help, though, 
I hope you wiU let me know.” 

144 


BY THE RIVER 


' ‘ We will indeed, ’ ’ said J ohn. ^ ‘ I glad you 

understand.’^ 

Arthur left them, and the three friends put 
their heads together. Each one of them read 
the words written on the paper once again. 

‘H’m becoming dizzy,” John exclaimed with 
a sigh. ^Ht seems to me Arthur is correct in 
saying this sounds like the work of a spy. The 
circumstances under which it was found cer- 
tainly leads one to believe that Robinson wrote 
it. Is he a spy? I don’t know. If he is, what 
is Fleetmann and what was he rowing across 
the river for this afternoon? I don’t know that 
either. All we can say is that suspicion points 
to one or the other of them.” 

‘‘Perhaps to both,” Samuel Smith suggested. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said John so- 
berly. 

“It’s possible, though,” said Samuel Smith. 
“Isn’t it?” 

“Entirely possible,” Edward agreed. “But 
what’s their game?” 

“ If we only knew, ’ ’ said J ohn. ‘ ‘ Personally, 
however, I doubt if they are working together. 
Don’t you remember how Robinson used to put 
145 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Fleetmann out of Nassau Hall every time lie 
went over there to sell his fruits! He always 
acted as if he disliked him intensely.’^ 

^‘But they both act queerly, youdl admit 
that?’^ said Edward. 

must admit it of course/^ John agreed. 
‘‘But somehow I canT reconcile Robinson and 
Fleetmann. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Their voices are alike. ’ ^ 

“Exactly alike/’ John admitted. “One or 
the other of them is a spy. I’m convinced of 
that. But which one?” 

“John,” said Samuel Smith, lighting his pipe 
with an ember from the fire held between two 
small sticks, “isn’t it possible that they both 
may be spies ? They would not have to be work- 
ing together, and they may not like each other 
personally. That would not necessarily mean 
they both were not in the employ of the enemy, 
however. ’ ’ 

“Oh, you’re right of course,” cried John, 
“but the whole affair becomes more mixed up 
and involved every day. As I say, I’m becom- 
ing dizzy and confused with it all.” 

“Suppose we hand the paper to Robinson,” 
Edward suggested. “If he were suddenly con- 
146 


BY THE RIVER 

fronted with it his manner might give him 
away. ^ ’ 

‘^Not a bad idea/^ said Samuel Smith. 
‘‘Let’s do that the first thing in the morning.” 

“To-morrow is Christmas,” said John. 
“Perhaps we can give General Washington a 
spy for a Christmas present.” 

‘ ‘ But what is he accused of T ’ asked Edward. 

“Of being a spy,” said John. 

“We must have proof,” said Edward. “If 
we could prove that he was the man who fol- 
lowed you to the Van Pelts’, who spoke to us 
through the window of Nassau Hall, who wrote 
this note and we knew definitely what the note 
was about, that would be all right. The ques- 
tion in my mind is whether it is possible to 
arrest a man merely on suspicion.” 

“I believe it is,” said Samuel Smith. “In 
war time it is not always possible to wait until 
one has all the facts. The damage might be 
done by that time. Arrest him on suspicion 
and give him a trial. That’s my idea.” 

“I might ask Captain Robbins,” John sug- 
gested. 

Thomas Leonard returned to the little group 
at that moment. He was visibly excited and 
147 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


apparently the possessor of important informa- 
tion. 

‘‘To-morrow is Christmas/^ he exclaimed, 
standing in front of his three friends and look- 
ing at them excitedly. 

“We had just remarked on that fact,’’ said 
John, his hands clasped behind his head and his 
legs stretched out towards the fire. 

“Well,” said Thomas, bending forward and 
speaking in a low, tense voice, “I happen to 
know that General Washington is preparing to 
give the British a Christmas present that they 
will never forget.” 


148 


CHAPTER XIII 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

Christmas day dawned gray and cold. A bit- 
ing northeast wind swept across the Delaware, 
bringing with it rain squalls, flurries of snow, 
hail, and a penetrating chill that no amount of 
clothing could keep out. Washington’s little 
army, numbering scarcely more than twenty- 
four hundred men, was insufficiently clad, in- 
sufficiently fed and the storm added untold mis- 
ery to their already almost unbearable suffer- 
ings. 

But the camp was early astir. A feeling of 
expectancy, a sense of some great event im- 
pending pervaded the little Continental Army, 
and there was so much to do that there was no 
time left for the men to brood upon their trou- 
bles. Equipment was gone over carefully, rifles 
cleaned and oiled, cartridge belts filled, cannon 
and powder and shot collected under the trees 
by the river bank, boats patched up and oars ex- 
amined so that when the time came to cross the 
river everything should be in readiness. 

149 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

John, Edward, Thomas and Samuel Smith 
were so busy all day long that they had no 
opportunity to seek out Robinson and confront 
him with the paper Edward had picked 
up the day previous. They saw him several 
times, but always in company with a squad of 
soldiers busily engaged in preparations for the 
crossing and never alone. None of the four 
friends had any desire to test him in the pres- 
ence of others. 

Fleetmann also was in evidence, but he too 
was just as busy as every one else, and besides 
there was nothing definite to speak to him about. 
In fact there was little time even to wonder 
about his suspicious behavior of the previous 
afternoon. 

In the course of the day John met Arthur 
Tryon. 

“Any news of the spy to-day U’ asked 
Arthur. 

“None,’’ John replied, “and no time to think 
about him.” 

“I should say not,” said Arthur. “Let’s 
hope though that he has not got word of our 
plans to the Hessians across the river.” 

“Let’s pray he hasn’t,” exclaimed John fer- 

150 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

vently, and lie felt a sinking sensation in the 
pit of his stomach as he recalled Fleetmann’s 
voyage across the river, and wondered if there 
conld be any connection between that suspicious 
expedition and the plans General Washington 
had laid for that night. 

Darkness descended upon the camp early, and 
with the evening the wind increased in force 
and the cold became more intense. The army, 
after an early supper, assembled on the banks 
of the river and the work of loading the cannon 
on board the boats was begun. It was hard 
work, and it was dangerous as well. The night 
was pitch-dark and no fires could be lighted for 
fear the enemy across the river would see their 
glow and suspect some unusual activity on the 
part of the Continentals. The wind blew such 
a gale that one could scarcely stand against it. 
More than one man assisting in putting the can- 
non aboard was unable to keep his balance on 
the narrow thwarts of the boats, and was pre- 
cipitated into the icy water. 

In the work of loading Samuel Smith did 
yeoman service. His great strength was of in- 
valuable aid and he worked with the energy 
of ten men. 


151 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


Helps to keep you warm/’ lie said to Jokn. 
‘Ht’s kind of rougli on one’s hands though. I 
don’t think there is a particle of skin left on 
any one of my knuckles.” 

By seven o’clock the first boatload had 
started. It was followed a few moments later 
by another, and then another and another. One 
by one the skiffs, barges, flatboats and craft of 
all kinds and descriptions pushed out into the 
stream and were quickly swallowed up by the 
inky darkness. 

It was nearly midnight before John and Ed- 
ward started. Samuel Smith had already made 
two crossings, acting as steersman for one of 
the barges on which the cannon were loaded. 
He acted as pilot for the barge on which they 
embarked. Fleetmann too was in the company 
and as they were pushing off Edward nudged 
John. 

‘^There’s Robinson,” he whispered. 

Thomas and Arthur Tryon had been aboard 
one of the first boats to set out. 

Both John and Edward had hoped they would 
be ordered to man a sweep, because they wanted 
the exercise to keep them warm, but the places 
152 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

were all filled and they were huddled in the bow 
with a dozen other half-frozen soldiers. The 
northeast wind had lashed the river until it 
writhed as if in pain and huge waves beat 
against the prow of the boat to dispute its prog- 
ress and to break in angry fury, drenching the 
voyagers with their icy spray. Enormous 
blocks of ice charged at the heavily-laden barge, 
threatening to cave in its sides and send it 
plunging to the bottom of the river. 

One of the men stood up in the bow and by 
shouted directions did his best to instruct Sam- 
uel Smith in choosing his course. But he could 
not see all of the ice, and it was utterly im- 
possible to avoid every cake, and one huge block 
of it, lifted high in the air by an oncoming wave, 
struck the barge on the starboard side with such 
force that every one on board was thrown pre- 
cipitately from his seat or standing place head- 
long to the bottom of the boat. 

John^s chin struck the hub of one of the can- 
non wheels with such violence that he was ren- 
dered almost unconscious. A myriad of sparks 
flashed through his brain, and for a moment he 
thought that every tooth in his head had been 
153 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

loosened. Utter confusion reigned on board and 
as the men scrambled to regain their positions 
there came the cry of ‘^Man overboard.’’ 

Every one sprang to the sides of the barge 
and tried to pierce the darkness of the night 
with his gaze to discover the whereabouts of 
the missing soldier. Every one gave directions, 
and it was only with the greatest difficulty that 
Captain Robbins, the officer in command, was 
able to restore order and give directions for the 
search. 

It was of no avail. Not a trace of the man 
was found. The wind still shrieked and howled 
about them, the waves beat against the barge 
and the ice hurled itself clumsily at the shiver- 
ing boatload of soldiers, but the man was gone. 
When five minutes had elapsed Captain Rob- 
bins reluctantly gave orders to proceed, and 
one more name had been added to the list of 
those who gave their lives for their country. 

^^Who was it?” Edward demanded. 

‘‘Don’t know,” said John, holding on to his 
jaw. “I was about knocked out there for a 
moment and have little idea of what happened. ’ ’ 

“Who was it?” Edward asked the soldier on 
the other side of him. 


154 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

‘‘Dunno,^^ said the man indifferently. Like 
most of the others, he was wet and cold, and 
so engrossed with his own sufferings that he 
had little interest in the troubles of others. 

Edward lapsed into silence. John had noth- 
ing to say. His jaw had commenced to swell 
and was so sore already that he could scarcely 
shut his teeth together. His head ached from 
the jolt he had received and he was in the depths 
of misery. He felt as if he would care but little 
if he too fell overboard and ended it all then 
and there. He became indifferent to the spray 
which drenched him every few moments, and 
he no longer tried to resist the rolling of the 
barge which tossed him first to the left, then 
to the right, then forward, then backward, 
throwing him this way and that, buffeting him 
and bruising him all over his body. 

Finally the barge reached the Jersey shore. 
The men stumbled out of the boat, and up the 
bank, a squad of those already landed coming 
down to meet them and get the cannon ashore. 

The army was gathered in an open field a 
short distance from the river, and each individ- 
ual strove to locate and join his own regiment. 
Samuel Smith had remained aboard the barge, 
155 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

being assigned to the task of piloting it on an- 
other trip across the river and back. J ohn and 
Edward and the other men of their regiment, 
under the guidance of Captain Robbins, were 
led to the spot where the rest of their command 
was located. 

‘‘That you, John?^^ inquired a voice. 

“Yes. Hello, Thomas,’^ exclaimed John. 
“Where’s Arthur?” 

“Sent otf on some scouting work, I believe. 
As soon as we landed he and another man 
hustled away. Arthur of course didn’t give 
me the details, but he seemed mightily pleased 
to have been chosen and went otf in high 
spirits.” 

“Fleetmann and Robinson crossed with us,” 
whispered John. “You haven’t seen them any- 
where, have you? I haven’t.” 

Captain Robbins came up at that moment. 

“Bad news for you Princetonians, ” he an- 
nounced. 

“What do you mean, sir?” exclaimed John 
in alarm. “Has anything happened to the col- 
lege? Have the Hessians burned Nassau 
HaR?” 


156 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

said the captain. ‘‘Not that I know 
of. It^s news of a ditferent sort, about one of 
the citizens of Princeton.’’ 

The three boys immediately thought of Pres- 
ident Witherspoon, of Professor Houston, of 
Christopher Beekman, the genial proprietor of 
The Sign of the College, and their many other 
friends in the town, and wondered what dread- 
ful thing could have happened. 

“Who?” demanded John. “What has hap- 
pened?” 

“The man who was lost overboard was Fleet- 
mann,” said Captain Robbins. 

For a moment none of the boys spoke. They 
were too startled to do anything but stand still 
and gasp in amazement. 

“Fleetmann?” exclaimed Edward finally. 

“Yes,” said Captain Robbins. “You all 
knew him, didn’t you? He kept a small store 
in Princeton, I believe, and used to peddle his 
wares to the students in Nassau Hall. You 
must have known him.” 

“We did know him,” said John. “But 
it’s a shock to us to learn that he is dead.” 

“It’s a shock to me too,” said Captain Rob- 
157 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

bins. ^^He was one of the best men we had.’^ 

This was an interesting bit of news for the 
three boys. 

fine fellow,’’ Captain Robbins continued. 
^^He was the kind of a man who, if told to do 
a thing, would always do it no matter how diffi- 
cult it was. Only yesterday he carried out an 
extremely dangerous scouting commission which 
had been given him to do. He crossed the river 
alone, found out exactly what he had been sent 
to find out, and brought back his report.” 

^‘You don’t say so!” stammered John. He 
could sacrcely credit his ears. 

‘^A fine fellow and a true patriot,” said Cap- 
tain Robbins. ‘^We shall miss him dread- 
fully.” He turned and walked away. 

‘‘What do you think of that!” demanded 
John of Thomas and Edward when Captain 
Robbins had passed on. “We certainly were 
fooled on him all right.” 

“Yes,” said Edward, “but after all it helps 
to clear matters up.” 

“How do you mean!” 

“We’ve been looking for a spy, and out of 
three suspects originally we eliminated one 
when we found that Arthur Tryon had been 
158 


CHRISTMAS, 1776 

with the army all the time you were away on 
your trip to Morristown and therefore couldn’t 
have been the man who followed you. That left 
Fleetmann and Robinson. Now Fleetmann is 
gone and we hear from Captain Robbins that 
he was one of the most trusted and highly 
thought of men in the army. That leaves just 
one of the original three. Things are clearing 
up.” 

guess you’re right, Edward,” said 
Thomas. ’Twould seem that way, wouldn’t 
it, John?” 

‘‘It would indeed,” said John. “At my first 
opportunity I shall report everything we know 
to Captain Robbins. You’ve still got that pa- 
per you found, haven’t you, Edward?” 

“I have,” said Edward. 


159 


CHAPTER XIV 


TEENTON 

It was not until four o^clock in the morning 
that the army was ready to move. The diffi- 
culties encountered in forcing a passage of 
the river had been so much greater than ex- 
pected that four more hours were consumed 
than had been counted on. Twenty-four hun- 
dred men and twenty pieces of artillery, fer- 
ried across a swift, ice-choked river, in dark- 
ness, snow and sleet was an undertaking of no 
mean proportions. 

The army was separated into two divisions. 
Samuel Smith had rejoined his regiment now 
that the crossing was accomplished, and he, 
John, Edward and Thomas — all in the same 
company with Robinson — were attached to the 
division led by General Washington. They 
went straight back from the river about a mile 
and a half, then turned south and followed the 
road which joined the highway running be- 
160 


TRENTON 


tween Trenton and Pennington, about a mile 
out of the village of Trenton. No one spoke 
on the march except in an occasional whisper. 
The officers gave their commands in as low 
tones as possible, and every effort was made 
to preserve silence. The cannon brought up 
the rear and the jolting of their wheels over 
the uneven and frozen road supplied most of 
the noise that was made. 

^‘We must keep our eyes on Robinson, John 
whispered to Samuel Smith. 

Cold was forgotten now. Discomfort was a 
thing of the distant past. John even forgot 
his swollen jaw. A tense feeling of excitement 
pervaded the whole army. Battle lay ahead. 
Death probably waited for some of them. They 
were marching against the Hessians, the far- 
famed veterans from the bloody battlefields of 
Europe. It seemed preposterous almost for 
green, untried troops to attempt such a thing. 
That it was a bold stroke every one knew. 
Every one knew too that it must be successful 
if the colonists were to take courage to con- 
tinue the struggle. There was no money even 
to pay the soldiers. The fortunes of the thir- 
teen colonies had never been at such a low ebb, 
161 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

and unless the army could reverse its string 
of defeats the rest of the American people 
would stand behind it no longer. 

All the men knew this. General Washington 
himself had told them so. He had stated 
frankly that here was a chance presented to 
better conditions all through the colonies. He 
was going to seize it. But to be successful his 
men must stand behind him, all of them. Every 
man had sworn to himself to do his duty. 

There were some exceptions, of course. John 
thought he knew of one. 

The low gray clouds scudding across the 
winter sky reflected the light of the new day 
before the army came in sight of the little vil- 
lage of Trenton. The men in Washington’s di- 
vision did not know when the other division — 
the one under General Sullivan, which was com- 
ing by way of the river road — would arrive. 
The distance each had to travel was about 
equal, however, and the chances were that they 
would reach the village at about the same time. 

Suddenly the sound of firing came to their 
ears. 

‘‘Sullivan has encountered the Hessian out- 
162 


TRENTON 


posts, said Samuel Smith calmly. ‘^Itdl he 
our turn presently.’’ 

He had scarcely uttered these words when 
from behind a hedge in front of them came the 
rattle of musketry fire. Half a dozen bullets 
whined over their heads. 

The army at once deployed in open order and 
advanced on the run. They were in the out- 
skirts of Trenton and the success of the en- 
terprise now depended upon the speed with 
which it was carried out. The Hessian pickets 
could be seen retreating from house to house, 
halting behind every bit of cover to reload and 
fire at the oncoming Continentals. 

The Americans advanced on the double quick, 
cheering. Frightened faces appeared at the 
windows of the houses they passed, although 
sometimes a window was thrown open and a 
cheer given for the passing army. The cannon 
rumbled and rattled over the hard ground, their 
crews dragging them by hand and proceeding 
with every bit of speed at their command. 

The Hessian drums beating the call to arms 
could now be heard. At the head of King 
Street Washington halted his division. Part 
of it he sent down Queen Street and part down 
163 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


King. John and his friends were with the part 
entering the village by way of King Street. 

Firing came to their ears from the western 
side of the village. 

‘‘Sullivan must be coming in Second and 
Front Streets,” cried Edward. “ThaUs where 
I live.” 

Ahead of them they could see the Hessians. 
Their officers were running about wildly, try- 
ing to marshal the men into battle order. 
Everything seemed in confusion and in a hurly- 
burly of excitement. Evidently the enemy had 
been caught napping and the men were huddled 
together in the middle of the street like a lot 
of sheep. 

The Americans ran along the side of the 
streets, dodging from house to house and from 
tree to tree, firing as they went. 

“Not too fast,” warned Captain Robbins. 
“Give the artillery a chance.” 

As he spoke a battery stationed at the head 
of King Street opened fire. Grape and canister 
poured into the crowded ranks of the Hessians 
and a score of them went down. An officer on 
horseback — the Hessian Colonel Rail as John 
learned later — was riding furiously about, 
164 



AHEAD OF THEM THEY COULD SEE THE HESSIANS 



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TRENTON 


striving desperately to form his panic-stricken 
and demoralized troops into some kind of or- 
der. But it was a well-nigh hopeless task. The 
Hessians were backed up against the Assunpinck 
Creek, a considerable stream flowing through 
the village, the Continentals were in front of 
them, and on both sides, hemming them in com- 
pletely. 

Suddenly a squad of Hessians appeared out 
of a side lane, dragging two cannon. They 
wheeled them into the center of the street, 
swung their muzzles around so as to point at 
the oncoming Continentals and started fever- 
ishly to load them. 

Captain Robbins, however, was quick to dis- 
cover them. 

‘‘Follow me,’^ he shouted, and dashed off at 
top speed. 

At his very heels followed Samuel Smith, 
and close behind him John, Edward, Thomas, 
and a half dozen others of their company. 

The Hessian gunners had rammed the 
charges home and were hastily preparing to 
fire. A soldier just in back of John stopped 
running, dropped on one knee, raised his rifle 
and fired. The Hessian standing at the breech 
165 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


of one of the guns dropped in his tracks. This 
was enough for the other members of the gun 
crew and they turned in a body and fled. 

German cowards/^ shouted John, beside 
himself with excitement. 

‘ ^ Right you are, ’ ’ cried Edward. ^ ^ Look ! ’ ^ 

He pointed in the direction of the creek, and 
on the opposite side John saw a rabble of Hes- 
sians, some on foot, some on horseback, fleeing 
at top speed. 

‘^On the road to Bordentown, ^ ’ exclaimed 
Edward. 

Colonel Rail, meanwhile, was still trying to 
rally his men. He swore at them, he shouted 
at them, he beseeched, he implored, he threat- 
ened. And all the time the Continentals, posted 
behind every available tree, house, and shed, 
were pouring volley after volley into them. 
The American batteries raked them from three 
sides. 

Watch me bring down the old cock bird,” 
cried Samuel Smith to John. He stepped out 
from behind the tree he had been using for 
protection, exposed himself to the full view of 
the enemy, took deliberate aim and fired. 

Colonel Rail at the moment was trying to 
166 


TRENTON 


lead his demoralized troops to the attack. 
Suddenly he reeled in his saddle, his sword 
dropped limply from his hand, all the strength 
seemed to leave his body and he slid from his 
seat and fell to the ground in a heap, pale and 
bleeding. 

Two of his aides sprang to his side, lifted 
him from the ground and bore him away. An 
officer in the uniform of a lieutenant-colonel im- 
mediately took Colonel RalPs place at the head 
of the troops. But all order was at an end. 
Seeing their commander fall, the Hessians fled 
in dismay, the main body attempting to escape 
by the road to Princeton, but their retreat was 
cut off by Colonel Hand with a body of Penn- 
sylvania riflemen. The fugitives, ignorant of 
the smallness of the force that stood in their 
way, and having only the courage of hired 
troops, threw down their arms and implored 
mercy. 

Meanwhile John and Samuel Smith had fol- 
lowed Captain Robbins into the house where 
Colonel Rail had been carried. The house be- 
longed to a Mr. Stacy Potts and was kept by 
him as a tavern. As the three Continental sol- 
diers entered the front door they discovered a 
167 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


young girl lying at their feet, her hair dishev- 
eled, and spots of blood on the wooden floor. 

Hessian dirty work, Ifll wager, exclaimed 
Samuel Smith angrily, and he stooped and 
picked the girl up in his arms and carried her 
to a sofa in the adjoining room. 

As he put her down she opened her eyes. She 
was pale and trembling with fright. 

^‘A bullet hit my comb,’’ she cried in a shak- 
ing voice. was next door and started to run 
home when a bullet struck the comb right out 
of my hair and kocked me down. I got up 
and continued into the house, and then I reckon 
I must have fainted.” 

‘‘You’d better be glad it was nothing worse,” 
exclaimed Samuel Smith in astonishment. “As 
it is you’re not badly hurt and will be all right 
again in a few moments. Is there anything we 
can do for you?” 

“Is the fighting over?” she inquired anxi- 
ously. 

“Entirely over, I think,” said John. 

He peered out the window. Squads of Hes- 
sians, guarded by grinning Continentals, were 
being marched in from all directions. In one 
spot in the center of the street other Conti- 
168 


TRENTON 


nentals were collecting the spoils, — ^brass field 
pieces, rifles in enormous quantity, ammunition, 
a number of drums, and he also counted four 
captured colors. 

^‘We must have a thousand prisoners,^’ he 
exclaimed excitedly. 

Captain Robbins reappeared in the doorway 
at that moment. 

^‘Come along, he said, there is nothing 
we can do here.^^ 

‘‘Is Colonel Rail upstairs T’ asked Samuel 
Smith. 

“Yes, and dying, I think. 

A shadow crossed Samuel Smith’s face at these 
words. He believed himself to be the man who 
had fired the fatal short, so that he it was who 
had been the cause of the Hessian commander’s 
mortal wound. It was not pleasant to think of. 
True, it was war, and the enemy’s resistance 
had disappeared the moment their leader fell, 
so that in all probability Samuel Smith’s shot 
had in the long run been the means of saving 
much bloodshed. No man likes to feel, how- 
ever, that he has caused the death of another 
human being. 

Outside the house they encountered Edward. 
169 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

^^What a day/^ lie cried gleefully. ‘‘This 
morning marks the turning point of the war. 
You see if it doesn’t. The news of this victory 
will spread like wildfire over the colonies and 
every one who has been discouraged and down- 
hearted will he correspondingly cheered up and 
encouraged to go on. They can’t stop us now, 
and we’ve buried the fear of the Hessians once 
and for all. I’ve heard at least a dozen soldiers 
say already that they’re going to reenlist at 
once.” 

“I hope they all do,” said John fervently. 
“Otherwise there won’t be many left by the 
first of the year.” 

Every one was in high spirits. The prison- 
ers were being rounded up, and a count made 
of the captured guns and equipment. 

“So far as we can tell,” said Captain Rob- 
bins, “we lost only two men killed. Six enemy 
officers have been reported dead and between 
twenty and thirty men. Our prisoners total 
over twenty officers and more than eight hun- 
dred men. Not a bad day’s work.” 

Not a bad day’s work indeed. General 
Washington’s bold stroke at Trenton, which 
resulted in such a brilliant success, proved the 
170 


TEENTON 


hinge upon which the American cause seemed 
to turn. Tories and those who openly em- 
braced neither side, and were generally re- 
garded as Tories on that account, had lately 
been exultant and noisy. Now they became 
silent and alarmed. Those who favored the 
cause of the colonies took heart, as Edward 
had predicted, and the soldiers — ^many of them, 
to be sure, influenced by the promise of extra 
pay — flocked to reenlist. General Cornwallis, 
who had considered the rebellion^’ at an end 
and was preparing to sail home to England, 
was hastily ordered back to the army. An- 
other English general. Grant, who had been 
with the main army at New Brunswick, ad- 
vanced to Princeton, and all the British forces 
in the Jerseys were as much concentrated in 
the direction of Trenton as circumstances would 
allow. 

No one realized the danger of overconfidence 
more than General Washington, however. He 
was naturally delighted with the way matters 
had turned out, and pleased perhaps even more 
with the recent action of the Continental Con- 
gress in conferring greatly increased powers on 
him as commander-in-chief. But he knew the 
171 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

hard road to be traveled before the ultimate 
victory could be secured. 

Even in the flush of the stunning success at 
Trenton he did not allow caution to forsake 
him. His army was vastly inferior to the en- 
emy forces in the neighborhood, and with a 
wide ice-choked river at his back he knew how 
perilous his position would be if the British 
chose to attack. He therefore led his weary 
soldiers back along the road to McKonkey^s 
Ferry, and with almost as great difficulty as 
he had experienced in getting them across the 
river the night previous ferried them back 
again, together with his prisoners and booty. 

They were a weary lot of men who reached 
the camp on the Pennsylvania shore that day. 

‘H^m so tired I can scarcely speak, gasped 
Arthur Tryon, stretching himself at full length 
on the ground in front of the fire Samuel Smith, 
John, Edward and Thomas had kindled. 

^^Well, lying on the cold ground won’t do 
you any good,” exclaimed John. ‘‘Where were 
you all through the fighting, Arthur? I didn’t 
lay eyes on you once until we were starting 
back. ’ ’ 

“I was there all the time,” said Arthur. 

172 


TRENTON 


^‘When we landed I was sent ahead on some 
scouting work, and joined up with the army 
again when it entered the village/’ He made 
no move to get off the ground. 

‘‘I saw you,” said Thomas. can account 
for him, John.” 

John dropped his voice. ‘‘Who can account 
for Robinson?” he asked. “Did any one see 
him ? ’ ’ 

Every one in the little group remembered 
seeing him when the army marched out of 
Trenton on the way back. John and Edward 
remembered him in the barge crossing the river. 
From the time he landed on the Jersey shore 
until the return journey was commenced, how- 
ever, no one had any recollection of him at 
all. 

“And listen to this,” exclaimed Samuel 
Smith, removing his pipe from his mouth and 
leaning forward confidentially. “I talked with 
a colored man over in Trenton to-day who is a 
servant in the home of a Mr. Hunt. Mr. Hunt, 
I understand, is a man who is supposed to 
be neutral, although from what I hear he has 
often been accused of strong Tory sympathies, 
but never of being a very ardent Whig.” 

173 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘That^s right/’ said Edward. ‘‘I know him. 
He’s a townsman of mine, you know.” 

‘‘Well,” continued Samuel Smith, “it seems 
that Mr. Hunt gave a Christmas party yester- 
day evening. There was plenty of wine and a 
game of cards was started. Colonel Rail and 
a number of other Hessian officers were there 
and all of them had a good deal to drink. They 
got to playing cards, and they kept on playing 
cards, all night long. The colored servant told 
me that no one seemed to worry about Wash- 
ington at all ; they apparently considered it im- 
possible for him to cross the river and cause 
them any trouble. He himself had to keep 
awake and wait on the officers. 

“Shortly before daylight this morning, he 
says, there came a knock at the door, and when 
he opened it there was a man standing there 
wearing the insignia of the Middlesex regiment, 
with an envelope in his hand. 

“ ‘I want to speak with Colonel Rail,’ the 
soldier said to him, but the negro servant had 
had strict orders not to disturb the colonel 
under any circumstances. He told the soldier 
this and insisted upon it in spite of the man’s 
pleadings. ‘Then give him this note,’ the sol- 
174 


TEENTON 


dier begged. ‘It means the safety of his army, 
maybe his own life.’ The negro did not wish 
to do even that much, but the soldier was so 
insistent that he finally agreed to hand the note 
to Colonel Rail. 

“He took the note from the soldier’s hand, 
and after promising faithfully to deliver it shut 
the door and went into the room where the 
card game was being played. Colonel Rail was 
dealing, and when the servant handed him the 
note he did not even look at it, but merely 
shoved it into his pocket and went on dealing 
out the cards.” 

“That note warned him of our approach,” 
exclaimed John excitedly. 

“Of course it did,” said Samuel Smith. “If 
Colonel Rail had opened it we never would 
have won our victory there to-day.” 

There was complete silence in the little circle 
as the young soldiers pondered these words. 
Finally John spoke. 

“Who is the man who delivered the mes- 
sage!” 

“That’s what we want to find out,” said 
Samuel Smith with a hard laugh. He replaced 
his pipe in his mouth and reached for a light. 
175 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘Would the servant be able to identify him 
if he saw him again Edward inquired. 

“He says it was pretty dark,” said Samuel 
Smith, “but he thinks he would know the man. 
He couldnT give me any clear description of 
his appearance, though, but said the thing that 
impressed him most was the man^s voice.” 

At these words every one listening started 
perceptibly. 

“Yes?” said John. 

“He said the man seemed to talk through his 
nose.” 

John sprang to his feet excitedly. 

“Wait a minute,” said Arthur, who had 
roused himself to a sitting posture at the com- 
mencement of the story. ‘ ‘ That might describe 
my voice. At least I^m told that my voice is 
nasal.” 

“Yes,” said John, leaning forward eagerly, 
“and so is Robinson's.” 

“By George,” cried Arthur, “that's true. 
So he is the man you suspect, is he? Well, 
I have my doubts about him myself. I'll vol- 
unteer to be one to go to Captain Robbins and 
report the whole affair.” 

“I had already decided to do that,” said 
176 


TEENTON 


John. ‘^Perhaps Samuel will go with me, as 
he is familiar with the case from the very be- 
ginning. If you don^t mind, Arthur, I really 
think we would do it better than you.^’ 

‘‘No doubt you’re right,” said Arthur agree- 
ably. ‘ ‘ But old Eobinson. W ell, well, well. ’ ’ 


177 


CHAPTEE XV 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 

The following morning J ohn and Samuel Smith 
reported to Captain Bobbins and related the 
whole story, from start to finish. He listened 
attentively, interposed a question now and then, 
and when they had finished sat silent for a few 
moments. 

^^This is serious business,’’ he exclaimed 
finally. 

‘‘We think so,” said Samuel Smith. 

“You suspect Eobinson, don’t you?” asked 
the captain. 

“He seems to be the only one there is to sus- 
pect,” said John. “As we told you, there were 
three we suspected at the start, because all three 
of them had high-pitched nasal voices. We 
eliminated Arthur Try on when I returned from 
Basking Eidge and found that he had been here 
while I was away and therefore couldn’t have 
been the one I heard talking beside • the hay- 
178 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 


stack at Mr. Van Pelt^s. We^re sure he is 
all right. Fleetmann and Robinson were left, 
and now Fleetmann is dead and you tell us 
there never was any cause to suspect him. That 
leaves only Robinson. The paper Edward 
found, his firing at me, the fact that no one 
can account for him between our landing yes- 
terday morning and our return, the story 
of the messenger with the nasal voice who 
tried to see Colonel Rail, — all those things. 
Well—’’ 

‘‘Things point his way I must admit,” said 
Captain Robbins as John broke otf. “I will 
take steps to have him watched.” 

John and Samuel Smith thanked Captain 
Robbins for listening so attentively to their 
story, and then they left headquarters and 
walked away. They had gone only a short dis- 
tance when Edward appeared, a letter in his 
hand. 

“For you, John,” he said. 

John took the letter and examined the hand- 
writing. “Why, it’s from Mrs. Leonard,” he 
exclaimed. “We’ll get all the news of Prince- 
ton. Who gave it to you, Edward?” 

“A man named Brakely, one of our scouts 
179 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

who was in Princeton a few days ago. Mrs. 
Leonard asked him to deliver it to yon.’’ 

don’t know Brakely, and I’m sure he 
doesn’t know me. She told him I was in the 
Middlesex Regiment, I suppose.” 
suppose so,” said Edward. 

‘‘Well, let’s look for some place where we 
can all sit down and read the letter, ’ ’ exclaimed 
John. “Come on, Samuel.” 

They found seats on the front steps of a 
house which had been taken over by the quar- 
termaster, and after they were comfortably 
settled John broke the seal on the envelope 
and drew out the letter. 

“Looks like a long one,” said Edward. 

“It is,” said John, riffling the sheets. “Mrs. 
Leonard writes a small hand. Well, let’s read 
it.” 

He spread the sheets out on his knees and 
began : 

“ ‘Prince Town, Christmas Eve, 1776. 

“ ‘My dear John : 

“ ‘I trust this epistle finds you safe and in 
good health. Our soldiers are obliged to suffer 
many hardships these days for the sake of our 
180 


NEWS FKOM PRINCETON 


great cause, and I am happy to know that you 
are able to bear your share. I know you will 
always do your full duty, and my only con- 
cern is that the sickness, which I hear is so 
prevalent among our men, may pass you by. 
Take the best care of yourself, not only for 
your own sake, but for the sake of your coun- 
try. A sick soldier is a burden and we have 
many burdens already. 

‘‘ ‘Shortly after your enlistment your second 
cousin. Judge Henry Stirling from Newark, 
called on me. He had come to Princeton to see 
how you were getting on and to advise you 
about your part in the war. He was sur- 
prised to hear that you had enlisted already, 
but he was proud of you, I know. A fine man. 
Judge Stirling, and a handsome man too. What 
a limb he was in college! 

‘ ‘ ‘ The purpose of this letter is not to tell you 
about your cousin, however, hut to give you the 
latest news of Princeton and of the college.^ 

John looked up from the letter. 

“You see,’^ he exclaimed, “I knew she would 
give us the news.'^ 

“Go on and read it,^^ said Edward shortly. 

John proceeded: 


181 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘You would find Princeton a deserted vil- 
lage if you should come here now. It has the 
appearance of having been desolated with the 
plague and an earthquake, as well as with the 
calamities of war. The college was disbanded 
on November 29. President Witherspoon called 
all the students together in the prayer hall, 
explained that the college could be continued 
no longer, and bade them farewell. Character- 
istically, however, he expressed faith in the fu- 
ture and said he hoped and expected to see them 
back again. What a wonderful spirit he has! 
The few students have scattered. Professor 
Houston has disappeared, I know not where, 
and Nassau Hall itself is a barracks, full of 
Redcoats and Hessians. The Presbyterian 
Church too is being used as a barracks. The 
inhabitants of the town have almost all fled. 
I myself saw Dr. Witherspoon riding out of 
the village on his sorrel mare, Mrs. Wither- 
spoon following in the old family chair with 
young Mr. Hawkins of North Carolina holding 
the reins. Nearly every one has gone. I myself 
would have gone had I any place to go. Not be- 
ing so fortunate as some others, I am obliged 
to remain at home, trying to protect my prop- 
182 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 

erty from these pillagers. (Of course I should 
not use such epithets, for this letter might fall 
into their hands, but I never could resist the 
truth.) 

‘The Hessians are the worst as one would 
suspect. They always remind me of great hogs, 
with their close-cropped heads, bristling mus- 
taches, and fat round bodies. I really think 
the English officers try to restrain their men 
to some extent, but not these Hessians ! How 
I despise them! 

“ ‘During the two days before the British 
army came to town the inhabitants were leav- 
ing in an almost continuous procession. Of 
necessity the majority had to leave most of 
their possessions behind, and most of these 
goods were promptly seized by the soldiers 
upon their arrival. They have been guilty of 
so many wanton deeds too. For example, they 
have burnt up all the firewood the inhabitants 
had collected for the winter, and, not satisfied 
with that, have stripped houses and shops, and 
knocked down fences, and, making huge bon- 
fires, burnt everything up. They have even cut 
down fruit trees and burnt them. 

“ ‘The large new house recently erected by 
183 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


Jonathan D. Sargeant, Esq.,^ they burnt up at 
a loss, I am told, of over £620. The grist mills 
on the Millstone Eiver belonging to Major Wil- 
liam Scudder they burnt, together with his 
dwelling house, at a loss of nearly £1,200. They 
have burnt wheat fields in the western end of 
town, they have robbed tanners of their hides, 
stolen flax and used it in building fortifications. 

‘A party of Hessians stole several horses 
from one man a few days since, one of the ani- 
mals being reputed worth £100. They walk 
through the streets insulting the inhabitants 
and pulling their hats otf of their heads. All 
this in spite of written ‘‘protections’^ given to 
many of the people by the officers, these “pro- 
tections” being designed to make the persons 
possessed of them inviolate in person and in 
property. Three days ago two Hessians 
mounted on poor horses rode out to a farmer’s 
house, dismounted from their own beasts and 
demanded his in exchange. Fortunately he had 
been able to send all his possessions away be- 
fore these robber bands came to town. 

“ ‘Four other Hessians only yesterday went 
to the home of a Quaker family (and most of 

1 On the present site of The Nassau Club. 

184 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 

these outrages have been practised on persons 
of the Quaker faith, who, as you know, do not 
believe in fighting and have taken sides with 
neither country), and after treating the whole 
household insolently and insultingly, one of them 
(a great hulking brute) seized the hat off the 
man’s head and threw it on the ground. The 
Quaker, however (although a small man and 
nearly sixty years of age), sprang at the bully, 
tripped him up, put his foot upon his sword so 
that he could not draw it, took his hat again and 
replaced it upon his head. Thereupon the three 
other blackguards drew their swords and forced 
him to yield up his hat. This in spite of the 
fact that the Quaker had received a ^^protec- 
tion” (what a farce) a few days previously. 
Not content with this they broke down his stable 
door, stole his mare and carried otf four fine 
hogs. 

‘‘ ^Four miles out of town British and Hes- 
sians together robbed two brothers (who were 
farmers) of all their movable property, ripped 
open their beds, strewed the feathers about and 
carried off all the blankets so that there was 
nothing left to cover them. They go out at 
night and kill sheep and cows. One of their 
185 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


favorite tricks is to bargain with a man for 
property and when the bargain is struck, they 
take the property and give the owner receipts 
which are worth nothing. Never do they pay 
moneys. 

^Mr. Richard Stockton’s home ^^Morven” 
has been robbed and is being used as the head- 
quarters of the commanding officer. President 
Witherspoon’s country home ‘‘Tusculum” has 
been pillaged also, and seriously damaged, I 
fear. 

‘‘Their soldiers are boarded out at citizens’ 
houses, where the men take the best rooms, and 
force the owners to feed them and their horses 
as well. One gentleman farmer here had one 
hundred and seventy of these unwelcome guests. 
The officers took the best beds and rooms that 
the house afforded, while the soldiers slept in 
the barns, fed their horses on his best oats, 
and after several days paid him twenty shillings 
for at least fifty pounds damage. Mr. Joseph 
Shelton lost in one night to the dragoons, five 
stacks of hay, five hundred sheaves of wheat, 
four sheep, twenty-seven horses, two cows and 
a wagon. 

“ ‘Another of their practices is to trump up 
186 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 

charges against innocent people and report 
their names to the officers, whereupon orders 
are issued to seize all the property of these un- 
fortunate persons on the ground that they are 
forfeit to the king. 

^ ^ I write you of these things in detail so that 
you may know what is transpiring in our little 
village. I want you to know of these things and 
to tell others about them so that their willls may 
be strengthened to bring the evil doers to jus- 
tice. If I were not afraid of wearying you I 
could multiply these instances almost indefin- 
itely, for there is no end seemingly to what 
these marauders will do. 

‘ ‘ ‘ The college I feel sure is suffering at their 
hands and knowing as I do how you love its 
brown stone walls, and the stately trees which 
surround it, the thought of its being at the 
mercy of a host of vandals will rouse your fight- 
ing blood. May the time be not far distant when 
these alien soldiers are driven out of our coun- 
try never to return. 

^And now pardon this long letter. I have 
written fully, because I think you will want to 
know just what the situation is. So far as I 
can tell I shall remain in Princeton. My house 
187 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

(as you know) is ever at the disposal of your- 
self and your friends and I hope and pray it will 
not he long before you find occasion to make 
use of it. Until then, my dear J ohn, I am 
^ Yours atfectionately, 

^ Lydia Leonard.’ ” 

John folded the letter when he had finished 
reading it and placed it in the pocket of his 
coat. Then he placed his elbows upon his knees, 
rested his face in his hands and stared in 
gloomy silence at the ground. Neither of his 
companions spoke. 

‘‘They call that war,” exclaimed John sud- 
denly. “What a way to wage it.” He clenched 
his fists and shut his eyes. 

“I suppose they’ve visited my farm too,” 
said Samuel Smith in an even, quiet voice. 
“They didn’t find much.” 

“What good does it do to burn fruit trees 
and fences and furniture?” demanded John 
heatedly. “That kind of business doesn’t win 
wars.” 

“They may think they’ll frighten people into 
submission,” suggested Edward. 

“And they’re dead wrong,” cried John. 

188 


NEWS FROM PRINCETON 


‘^When a man doesn’t fight fair he only enrages 
his opponent and strengthens his will to win.” 

‘^Exactly so,” Samuel Smith agreed. ^‘Take 
my own case as an example. I have always be- 
lieved in the justice of our caus^ and have been 
willing to fight for it. After hearing Mrs. 
Leonard’s account of what the British and Hes- 
sians are doing in my own neighborhood I am 
not only willing but eager to fight twice as hard 
and twice as long as I was before.” 

^‘Do you suppose they have damaged Nassau 
Hall?” said Edward. 

‘^Not a doubt of it,” John exclaimed, ‘‘and to 
think that we went away and left a portrait of 
King George hanging on the walls.” 

“We’ll take it down before long,” said 
Samuel Smith. 

“What do you mean?” demanded John. 

“Simply this,” observed Samuel Smith cool- 
ly, “that in my opinion the tide has turned in 
our favor. I fully believe that in the not far 
distant future we are going to drive the enemy 
just as they have been driving us for the 
past few months. They under-estimated our 
strength, and they guessed wrong as to our 
ability to carry on the fight. We showed them 
189 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

at Trenton what we can do, and mark my words 
we’U show them again/ ^ 

‘ ‘ I hope you ^re right, ^ ’ said J ohn with a sigh, 
know I’m right,” said Samuel Smith 
shortly. 

We’ve only got about five thousand men.” 

“And the British have twice as many, all 
seasoned troops, the equal of any in the world, 
I know, ’ ’ said Samuel Smith. ‘ ^ But this is the 
diiference : we are fighting for our homes and 
our families and our country; they are not. 
Half of their men question the justice of what 
their German-born king is trying to do, and 
the result is they are only half-hearted, and 
they do not believe in their cause. No man can 
accomplish anything in this world unless he 
believes in it heart and soul. That’s the dif- 
ference between the British and the Continental 
armies, and that is the thing that is going to 
win the war for us.” 

“I certainly hope you’re right,” said John. 

“I repeat,” said Samuel Smith, “I know I’m 
right. ’ ’ 

He rose to his feet. “Hello, Arthur,” he 
called to a soldier hurrying by. “Where ’re you 
going in such a rush?” 

190 


NEWS FEOM PEINCETON 


Arthur Tryon stopped and looked at the three 
friends grouped on the steps of the house. Then 
he approached the spot where they were stand- 
ing. 

Haven T you heard the news?^^ he inquired. 

‘‘What newsP^ demanded John. 

“My but you people are slow,’^ exclaimed 
Arthur laughingly. ‘ ‘ I thought every one knew 
by this time. ^ ^ 

“Tell us. Tell us/’ urged John eagerly. 

“Well,” said Arthur, “I just heard that one 
of General Washington’s scouting parties has 
returned with the report that Cornwallis is on 
his way South with eight thousand men. ’ ’ 

The eyes of his three listeners gleamed at 
this news and with bated breath they waited for 
more. 

“What is General Washington going to do!” 
asked Samuel Smith. 

“He hasn’t confided all his plans to me,” said 
Arthur with a laugh, “but I hear he intends to 
cross the river again at Trenton.” 

“You hear that!” cried Samuel Smith, turn- 
ing exultingly to John and Edward. “I told 
you the tide had turned. What do we care if 
they have got eight thousand men? We’re 
191 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

going back into New Jersey and what^s more 
we^re going to get New Jersey back. That 
sounds like a pun, but believe me I mean it 
seriously. ’ ’ 

His enthusiasm was infectious and the others 
were presently as excited as he. The rumor 
Arthur had brought proved to be founded on 
fact too, for presently preparations were once 
more under way to recross the Delaware. 

‘‘And when we get over there wedl keep an 
eye on our friend Robinson,’’ said Edward. 
“We’ll check up on him this time.” 

He looked at John, who merely nodded his 
head shortly, but his eyes took on a hard light 
which showed that he understood. 


192 


CHAPTEE XVI 


ON THE SKIEMISH LINE 

On the morning of January 2, 1777, John Stirl- 
ing found himself lying behind a fallen tree on 
the south hank of a small stream known as Five 
Mile Eun, on the Princeton road about four 
miles out of Trenton. Beside him was Samuel 
Smith. On his other side was Edward Nash, 
and next to Edward, Thomas Leonard. Behind 
the trunk of a tree farther up the stream he saw 
Edward Eobinson, ex-steward of the College of 
New Jersey. Arthur Tryon was not with the 
regiment. He had great ability as a scout and 
was usually employed in work of that nature 
when the army was in the field. 

It was about nine o’clock in the morning. 
Captain Eobbins was walking up and down be- 
hind the positions, encouraging his men, occa- 
sionally stopping to talk with one of them for a 
moment, to give an order or to be of assistance 
with a bit of advice. The British were expected 
193 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

at any moment. Two farmers mounted on swift 
horses had brought word into camp that Corn- 
wallis had left Princeton that morning and was 
leading his army to Trenton with the avowed 
intention of driving Washington into the 
Delaware. 

Where is our main army posted!’^ John in- 
quired of Samuel Smith. ^Hn Trenton, I sup- 
pose.’’ 

‘‘South of Trenton, I think,” said Samuel 
Smith. “I heard some one say that our main 
positions are south of the village, behind the 
Assunpinck Creek.” 

“And our task here is to hold the enemy up 
as much as possible, I reckon. ’ ’ 

“That’s as I understand it.” 

A tense feeling of excitement pervaded the 
little detachment of Continentals. Every one 
seemed to feel that great events were impend- 
ing, and that possibly the fate of the Thirteen 
Colonies rested on the shoulders of George 
Washington’s ragged little army that day. The 
faces of the men were pale, but they were de- 
termined. 

“Here they come.” 

The word was passed rapidly along the line. 

194 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE 


Every man cocked Ms rifle and set Mmself for 
the shock. 

But nothing happened. 

A deer had crossed the road ahead and some 
excited Continental, expecting to see redcoats, 
had mistaken the first living thing he had seen 
for the enemy. The men settled down for a 
further period of waiting. 

The minutes dragged by like hours. The air 
was cold, the little stream in front of them was 
filled with ice, fingers began to grow numb, and 
the men became chilled through and through. 
An uncanny silence settled down upon them. 
A bluejay flashed shrieking through the tree- 
tops now and then, and the gentle breeze rustled 
the brown leaves of the oak trees, but there was 
nothing else to disturb the quiet. 

Samuel Smith leaned over towards John. 

‘‘I have a conundrum for you,^’ he wMspered. 

‘‘Whatr’ 

‘^Why is our army like an oak leaf T’ 

John shook his head in token of ignorance. 

‘‘Because it hangs on all winter.’’ 

John wondered how a man could joke under 
such conditions. Personally he was more nerv- 
ous than he had ever been in his life. It was a 
195 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

trying situation to sit and wait for a vastly 
superior force to come up and attack. He knew 
the enemy would have cannon, and the detach- 
ment of Continentals under Colonel Hand of 
the Pennsylvania riflemen stationed on Five 
Mile Run had none. He knew that before many 
minutes had passed he might be dead. Frankly 
he was afraid. He did not want to die. He was 
young and he loved life and there were so many 
things he wanted to do. 

His mouth felt dry and he had difficulty in 
swallowing. A sickly feeling persisted in the 
pit of his stomach, and his arms and legs seemed 
devoid of all strength. He gritted his teeth 
hard and gripped his rifle. He was afraid, cer- 
tainly. But he was going to do his duty to the 
utmost of his ability. 

^‘Here they come.” 

This time the warning proved to be authentic. 
A confused murmur of sound came to the ears 
of the waiting riflemen. It was utterly unlike 
any sound John had ever heard before and for 
a time he was puzzled to identify it. Suddenly 
it dawned upon him. The noise he heard was 
caused by the thousands of footfalls of an army 
on the march. 


196 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE 


‘‘DonT waste your shots, Captain Robbins 
cautioned them. ‘^Fire when you can do the 
most good and then fall hack.’’ 

Through an opening in the woods John ’spied 
a splash of red, — the advance guard of Corn- 
wallis’ army. Faintly he heard the rumble of 
cannon wheels, while the sound of the footbeats 
grew steadily louder. 

‘ ‘ Crack, ’ ’ came the report of a rifle, instantly 
followed by the rattle of musketry fire all along 
the line. 

John could see the redcoats plainly now. A 
company of them had appeared in the road 
ahead and he saw two of them fall. He took 
careful aim and fired. Samuel Smith’s rifle 
spoke almost at the same instant. The British 
scurried from their exposed position in the 
center of the road back into the woods and re- 
turned an answering volley. John could hear 
the bullets cutting through the trees about him. 
He felt calmer now. As he started to reload his 
rifle he glanced at the men about him. Some 
were aiming their guns preparatory to firing, 
while others like himself were reloading in fe- 
verish haste. 

He saw Robinson take aim and fire. It 

197 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

seemed to Jolm that his aim must be too high 
and the old suspicion flashed through his mind, 
and he wondered if he was purposely aiming 
so as to waste his shot. But he had no time to 
think about such things for more than a mo- 
ment. The enemy fire was becoming hotter 
every minute and presently Captain Robbins 
gave the order to retire. 

The Continental riflemen had temporarily 
halted the British advance, thus giving them- 
selves a chance to retire to previously chosen 
positions south of the Shabbakong Creek, a lit- 
tle stream flowing into the Assunpinck Creek 
two miles north of Trenton. The men scurried 
through the woods, dodging from tree to tree 
like Indians, and making all possible speed. 

The north bank of the Shabbakong was lined 
with open meadows while on the south side 
there were thick woods, with the road to Tren- 
ton running through the center of them. Colonel 
Hand divided his force into two parts, station- 
ing half of his men in the woods on one side of 
the road with the second half in the woods on 
the other side. Once again the Continentals 
stationed themselves behind trees, stumps and 
thickets, and, availing themselves of every bit 
198 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE 


of cover that offered itself, quietly waited for 
the enemy to come up. 

‘‘Well worry them when they get as far as 
this,’’ said Samuel Smith. “They won’t know 
how many of us there are and won’t know what 
to do.” 

“Perhaps they’ll leave it to their artillery 
to find out,” said John grimly. 

“You mean they’ll turn the cannon on us 
before they attack?” 

‘ ‘ Exactly. ’ ’ 

The answer to this problem was soon given. 
Only a few moments elapsed before the ad- 
vance guard of the British emerged from the 
woods and started across the meadow on the 
north side of the creek. They marched in per- 
fect order. John could not help but admire 
them as they swung along, and with a wry smile 
he compared their appearance with that of the 
ragged, undisciplined army of which he was a 
member. 

“No one will fire until the enemy are within 
three hundred feet of the creek,” ordered Cap- 
tain Robbins, passing rapidly along the line. 
“Captain Miller’s men on the left hand side 
of the road are to fire first. After their volley 
199 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

every man is to count ten, and then let ’em 
have it.” 

These last few words he snapped out sharply, 
and every man set himself tensely for the task 
ahead. 

On came the British. Line upon line they 
swung along like the regular waves of the sea. 
John unconsciously compared them with the 
waves at low tide on the Jersey sea coast, that 
broke far out on the bar and then ran along 
smoothly and in even rows towards the shore. 
On they came. 

‘^What a target!” Samuel Smith whispered 
eagerly. 

On they came. There was something relent- 
less in their appearance, John thought. They 
looked irresistible, and for a moment it seemed 
to him that Oeneral Washington was presump- 
tuous in ever thinking his army was a match 
for these seasoned world veterans. On they 
came, nearer and nearer. Save for the muffled 
tread of their feet on the frozen meadow, there 
was not a sound to be heard. The winter sun 
shone down brightly, and so far as appearances 
went this British army might have been on 
dress parade. 


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ON THE SKIEMISH LINE 


The sharp, curt command brought John back 
to realities with a start. From across the road 
came the bark of a hundred rifles. The enemy 
came to an abrupt halt. Men in the front rank 
dropped their rifles, sank limply to the ground, 
and lay sprawled out in grotesque, unnatural 
positions. 

‘‘Fire!’’ 

The rifles of the men on John’s side of the 
road spat forth their leaden messages of death 
and more gaps appeared in the British lines. 
A moment later the firing became general. The 
Continentals loaded and fired, loaded and .fired, 
just as fast as they could. The smoke curled 
up through the trees, and the air was filled with 
the smell of burnt powder. The British mean- 
while had returned the fusillade, but they could 
not see what they were shooting at, while they 
themselves were in full view of the hidden Con- 
tinental marksmen. 

‘‘Here come their cannon,” cried Samuel 
Smith suddenly. 

The British apparently considered it neces- 
sary to prepare for a regular battle. They were 
forming their men in solid line and the artillery 
201 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

was being rushed forward. Colonel Hand had 
seen this too, and immediately gave the order 
to retire, having no desire to expose his men 
to needless peril. 

‘‘WeVe delayed them some more,’^ panted 
John as he hurried along between Samuel 
Smith and Edward. ^^That apparently is what 
we are supposed to do.’^ 

reckon that^s our job,^^ said Samuel 
Smith. ^ ‘ Some of their men have been delayed 
from ever reaching Trenton.’^ 

Colonel Hand at their head, the detachment 
marched rapidly along. Back of them they 
could hear the British scouring the woods with 
their artillery, and the noise of grape shot and 
ball as they ripped their way through the trees. 

^^They^re going to kill a lot of trees, said 
Samuel Smith with a chuckle. wish I could 
be on hand after the cannonade to watch them 
charge our positions and see how surprised 
they^re going to be to find us gone.’’ 

‘‘That would be fun,” cried Edward. “By 
the way, look at old Robinson over there. He 
seems to be in an awful hurry.” 

“Perhaps he’s afraid of being killed by one 
of his own cannon,” said John dryly. 

202 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE 


‘‘Meaning Britisli cannon of course 

“Of course.’’ 

“Look here,” cried Samuel Smith suddenly. 
They had progressed to within a mile of the 
village of Trenton and were just crossing a 
steep little ravine which traversed the road at 
right angles. On the south side of the gully a 
considerable force of Continentals was estab- 
lished, evidently waiting for Cornwallis’ army 
to come up. 

“Virginia troops,” announced Samuel Smith 
as they drew closer. “There’s Captain For- 
rest’s battery too. Johnnie Bull is due for a 
hot reception all along the line apparently.” 

“They’re still bombarding our positions back 
there,” said John. “Just listen to them.” 

“They’re wasting ammunition too,” said Ed- 
ward. 

Colonel Hand led his detachment straight on 
into the village, across the bridge over the As- 
sunpinck and took his position in a small clump 
of trees towards the right of the line. When 
they first arrived the sound of the cannonading 
was proceeding briskly. Suddenly it ceased. 

“They’re charging our positions now, I 
guess,” exclaimed Samuel Smith. “I’d give 
203 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

half my farm to be there and see them. What a 
joke on Cornwallis.^’ 

‘‘Pretty soon they’ll strike the Virginians,” 
said John. “Captain Forrest with his battery 
can give them some real trouble.” 

“There goes that brass three pounder of his 
now,” cried Samuel Smith. “I know it’s voice. 
I can tell it anywhere.” He chuckled to him- 
self and seemed in high spirits. 

“Let’s climb one of these trees,” he ex- 
claimed. Maybe we can see what is going on. ’ ’ 

A tall pine was close at hand and a moment 
later Samuel Smith was swinging himself up 
from limb to limb as nimbly as a black bear. 
John followed close behind him, and presently 
they were ensconced near the top of the tree, 
and from this point of vantage commanded a 
clear view of Queen Street, down which the 
British army was certain to advance. 

“Captain Forrest is certainly giving them a 
hearty welcome,” said Samuel Smith. “I im- 
agine his job is only to delay though, just the 
same as ours was.” 

“They are retreating now. There are Colo- 
nel Hitchcock’s New Englanders marching up 
Queen Street to meet them,” exclaimed John. 
204 


ON THE SKIRMISH LINE 


‘^You’re right. Here come the Virginia 
troops and Forrest battery,’’ cried Samuel 
Smith. ^^Look down below. Look at the can- 
non being wheeled up to command the bridge 
over the Assunpinck down there.” 

‘^To cover the retreat.” 

‘‘And keep the British from crossing the 
bridge.” 

As the tired Virginians fell back down Queen 
Street, Hitchcock’s brigade opened its ranks to 
allow them to pass through on their way to 
the bridge. When the last man had passed 
through safely they closed their ranks again 
and began to retire slowly themselves, fighting 
every step of the way, hard pressed by the ad- 
vancing British. 

“Look,” cried John, “the British are throw- 
ing out parties to the right and left and they ’re 
firing at our men from between the houses on 
both sides of the street.” 

“We’d better climb down, I guess,” said 
Samuel Smith. “It looks as if they’ll be need- 
ing our services in a few more minutes.” 

The Virginians and Captain Forrest’s bat- 
tery dashed across the bridge. Hitchcock’s 
brigade was not far distant, but their progress 
205 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

was slow and the British were pressing them 
on three sides. As John and Samuel Smith 
reached the ground and started to rejoin their 
comrades of the Middlesex Regiment there was 
a shout and they turned in time to see two de- 
tachments of British, one from each side, rush- 
ing madly for the bridge to get behind Hitch- 
cock and cut otf his retreat. 

At that moment, however, the Continental 
cannon on the south bank of the Assunpinck 
opened up on them with such a murderous fire 
that they were quickly obliged to abandon this 
attempt and retire in disorder, leaving many of 
their men lying dead or wounded in the street. 
Colonel Hitchcock thereupon led his men hur- 
riedly over the bridge and took up his position 
in a meadow at the right of the line. The firing 
died away. 

‘Hs the fighting all over?’’ exclaimed John 
in surprise. 

‘‘Not in my opinion,” said Samuel Smith. 
“My guess is that before night comes, and 
that’s not very distant, Cornwallis will bring up 
his entire army and try to rush our positions.” 


206 


CHAPTER XVII 


A FORCED MARCH 

The afternoon was fast wearing away. On 
the south hank of the Assunpinck there was 
feverish activity. Every member of the Con- 
tinental Army, from General Washington down 
to the humblest private, fully expected that it 
was only a question of hours, perhaps of min- 
utes, before Cornwallis would attack. He had 
a vastly superior force, and the creek offered 
him no serious obstacle. His army was com- 
posed of seasoned regulars, while the Conti- 
nentals opposed to him were for the most part 
untried amateurs at the game of war. But the 
Continentals worked like beavers, nevertheless, 
throwing up earthworks and strengthening 
their fortifications, resolved to furnish as much 
opposition as possible. 

“It looks bad for us,^’ said Samuel Smith 
gloomily. “But one thing is sure, and that 
is that wefil make them always remember they 
207 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

had a real battle. He shut his jaws with a 
snap. 

‘^You think they’ll attack, don’t you?” said 
John. ‘Hdo.” 

‘^They’re foolish if they don’t, said Samuel 
Smith. We’ve got the Delaware River behind 
us and it seems to me they’ve got a chance to 
end the war right now. We’re trapped, John, 
I’m afraid.” 

He fell to work with his pick, loosening up 
the frozen ground for John to throw up on 
the earthworks in front with his spade. All 
along the south bank of the creek this same op- 
eration was going on. 

‘Hf they don’t drive us into the Delaware,” 
said Samuel Smith presently, ‘Hhe only thing 
left for us is to retreat along the bank of the 
river and that leads to the ocean. We can’t 
swim the ocean. We’re trapped. We should 
never have crossed the Delaware again.” 

‘‘Only yesterday you were saying the tide 
had turned in our favor,” said John. “Now 
you seem to have lost all hope.” 

“They’re too many for us, John.” 

He swung his pick vigorously and in silence. 

“Understand me,” he exclaimed a moment 
208 


A FORCED MARCH 


later, ‘H’m not afraid, and IVe made np my 
mind never to be taken alive. I do think, 
though, that our cause is lost.^’ 

Most of the men seemed to share this view. 
They were heavy-hearted, and being worn out 
physically their spirits were correspondingly 
low. They still worked hard strengthening 
their fortifications, but their manner suggested 
that they considered themselves the victims of 
a forlorn hope. Frequent anxious glances were 
cast across the creek in the direction of the 
British encampment, every man expecting mo- 
mentarily to see the enemy advancing to the 
attack. 

But the shadows lengthened and the January 
sun sank lower and lower in the western sky, 
and the expected attack was not forthcoming. 

‘‘What are they waiting forF’ John de- 
manded. 

“Maybe theyfil wait till morning,^’ said Sam- 
uel Smith. “They must know theyVe got us 
trapped and possibly they think that if they 
wait until to-morrow their men will be fresher. 
TheyVe done a lot of work themselves to-day. 
TheyVe marched all the way from Princeton 
and they must be almost as tired as we are.^’ 
209 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘They couldn’t be,” said John with a wry 
smile. ‘ ‘ My hands are blistered, my back aches 
like a sore tooth, and I’m so weary I feel as if 
I could go to sleep right here standing up.” 

Dusk settled down over the camp, and still 
the British did not attack. Gradually it be- 
came the consensus of opinion that the battle 
would not be fought until the following day, 
and when the earthworks were completed and 
orders given to cease work, the tired Conti- 
nentals dropped their tools, and many of them 
stretched out on the cold ground wherever they 
happened to be and fell asleep. 

John, Samuel Smith, Edward and Thomas 
were among those who tried to get some rest 
in this way. They did take the precaution, how- 
ever, of obtaining blankets before stretching 
out on the ground, for none of them had any 
desire to add sickness to his list of troubles. 

They were too tired to worry about Robin- 
son. They were too tired to worry about the 
British, and in spite of the fact that they ex- 
pected a battle the following day and each one 
knew that he might not survive it, that thought 
was not sufficient to keep them awake. 

210 


A FORCED MARCH 


It seemed to John that he had scarcely closed 
his eyes when he felt himself rudely shaken. 

‘‘Wake up, John,’’ he heard Samuel Smith 
say. 

John merely grunted. 

“Wake up,” Samuel Smith repeated ex- 
citedly. 

John sat up and rubbed his eyes dazedly. 
It was black night, and for a moment he was 
unable to collect his thoughts and remember 
where he was. 

‘ ‘ Get up, ’ ’ Samuel Smith urged him. “ We ’r e 
moving. ’ ’ 

The cold night air in his face revived him 
somewhat and John staggered to his feet. He 
remembered now where he was, and his brain 
cleared instantly. He became wide awake and 
alert at once. All along the bank of the Assun- 
pinck he saw the watch fires burning and 
squads of Continental soldiers hurrying to- 
wards them with fence rails, logs and all the 
available firewood they could find. In the dis- 
tance, across the creek, he could see the yellow 
glow of the watch fires of the British. 

“What’s up?” he demanded. 

211 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

‘‘We’re moving,” said Samuel Smith. 

“Who is?” 

“The army.” 

“Where!” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Where are Edward and Thomas!” 

‘ ‘ They ’re right here. Are you fully awake ! ’ ’ 

“Absolutely,” said John. “Where’s Ar- 
thur! Is he back yet!” 

“Haven’t seen him. I heard he was scout- 
ing towards Princeton, and I guess he couldn’t 
get back through the British lines.” 

“Where are we going!” 

“I don’t know,” said Samuel Smith. “The 
army is about to move, that ’s all I can say. ’ ’ 

Soldiers were hurrying about in all direc- 
tions. The various commands were being col- 
lected together and everywhere was the most 
feverish activity. But everything was being 
done as silently as possible. Orders were given 
in low tones, and talking above a whisper in 
the ranks was expressly forbidden. 

“That you, John!” 

“Hello, Edward. What’s up!” 

They had found their regiment and dropped 
into their proper places. Edward always was 
212 


A FORCED MARCH 

on John^s left and Samuel Smith on his right. 

‘‘We^re leaving here.^’ 

know that/’ whispered John testily. 
‘‘What I want to find out is where we’re going 
to.” 

“To Princeton, I understand.” 

“What?” demanded John in amazement. 

“That’s what I hear.” 

“You hear that, Samuel?” 

“I do,” said Samuel Smith, “and the news, 
if true, is the best I have ever heard in all my 
life.” 

“How are we going to get through the Brit- 
ish?” John inquired of Edward. “They 
haven’t left, have they? Of course not.” 

“We’re not going through them, we’re going 
around them.” 

A battery of cannon were dragged past them 
at that moment, the wheels wrapped in old 
cloths so as to make no sound. The boys 
stopped whispering and peered at the guns and 
their crews as they lumbered by. 

“We’re taking our cannon,” whispered John 
excitedly. “This is not a retreat then, but a 
strategic move.” 

“My hat!” exclaimed Samuel Smith, who 
213 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


was becoming so excited be could scarcely con- 
trol bis voice. ^^Tbink of wbat tbis means, 
boys. If we can get around in back of Corn- 
wallis without bis knowing it, we can get to 
Princeton before be can stop us, and maybe 
continue on to Brunswick, where all the British 
stores and provisions are located. General 
Washington is a marvel. No one but a marvel 
could have thought of such a thing. If we can 
get away without Cornwallis discovering us, 
well make him the sorriest man you ever heard 
of.’’ 

Samuel Smith was just as jubilant now as 
he had been downcast that afternoon. His 
spirits were up, his confidence had returned, 
and he was impatient to be off. Nor did he 
have long to wait. 

The order to move came presently, and the 
regiment started on its night march to Prince- 
ton. They moved in absolute silence, orders 
having been given that until further notice 
there was to be no talking whatsoever. The 
pace was slow, for at the start there was no 
road to follow and the way was difficult through 
the woods. Every little while they halted, and 
then they would move forward, only to be halted 
214 


A FORCED MARCH 

again after a little more distance had been cov- 
ered. The Continental watch fires gradually 
faded into oblivion, and after an hour of halt- 
ing and going ahead they turned into a road 
leading to the left. 

Captain Robbins walked beside Edward, who 
was on the end of the line. 

‘^You recognize this roadT’ he asked, know- 
ing that Edward’s home was in Trenton, and 
thinking him probably familiar with the coun- 
try ’roundabout. 

‘^The Sandtown road,” said Edward. 
know it well. If we ’re going to Princeton we ’ll 
probably turn off before we get to Sandtown 
though and take the crossroad leading to the 
west of Princeton.” 

^‘That’s what I thought,” said Captain Rob- 
bins. 

The restriction against talking had been re- 
moved, but the majority of the men were so 
tired they had little inclination to say anything, 
and the march was continued mostly in silence. 
Every little while the column was halted, as 
difficulties were encountered in getting the can- 
non over the narrow wagon track that served 
as a road. And every time the column halted 
215 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

there were men in each platoon who fell sound 
asleep, standing on their feet and leaning on 
their rifles. When the command to advance 
would come, many of these sleepers would not 
hear it, and the platoon behind, unable to see 
them in the darkness, would walk into them and 
they would trip over their rifles and fall to the 
ground. 

Fortunately the weather had turned cold dur- 
ing the early part of the night and the ground 
had become frozen. For several days previous 
it had been quite warm, and the roads had been 
muddy and well-nigh impassable for artillery. 
The sudden frost was of incalculable assistance 
to Washington’s army. 

‘Hs Robinson with us?” Edward whispered 
to Captain Robbins. 

‘‘No. I assigned him to sentry duty to-night, 
thinking it just as well to leave him behind.” 

“He’s back by the Assunpinck, then?” 

“Yes. We left enough men to keep the fires 
burning brightly and to pace up and down as 
sentries so that the British will have no sus- 
picion that our camp has been deserted.” 

“Will Robinson stay there?” 

“I figured it would be more difficult for him 
216 


A FORCED MARCH 


to disappear from there than to leave us here 
on the road without being discovered. One or 
two others will keep their eyes on him.’’ 

‘‘Has Arthur Try on returned?” 

“No, he hasn’t,” said Captain Robbins. “I 
hope nothing has happened to him.” 

“He’s fairly capable of looking out for him- 
self,” said Edward. 

“Indeed he is,” Captain Robbins agreed. 
“I’m not really worrying about him. I expect 
he couldn’t get back through the British lines.” 

They plodded onward in silence. The mem- 
bers of the Middlesex Regiment had no idea 
what position they occupied in the line. They 
knew that the army extended far ahead of them 
and stretched out far behind, but further they 
only knew that they were part of a tired, weary 
procession of soldiers, almost exhausted physi- 
cally, but mentally strong and imbued with the 
resolve to dare all and endure all. 

As Edward had predicted a turn was taken 
to the left before they came to Sandtown, and 
they bore away in the direction of Princeton. 
The road opened up a bit at this point and the 
traveling became easier. The pace, however, 
was quickened and halts became less and less 
217 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

frequent. Time was of the utmost importance, 
because the minute day broke and Cornwallis 
discovered he had been tricked, he and his whole 
army would be on their way to Princeton at 
top speed. Washington knew he could not pos- 
sibly oppose such an army and the whole suc- 
cess of his movement lay in reaching Princeton 
and disposing of the comparatively small Brit- 
ish force there before Lord Cornwallis had an 
opportunity to bring his main army into action. 

Dawn was not far distant. The stars were 
commencing to pale and the countryside began 
to take on that soft gray glow that precedes the 
coming of the sun. The men were marching 
doggedly on, stumbling and tripping through 
sheer weariness, and scarcely a word was 
spoken. 

Suddenly John grasped Samuel Smith by the 
arm. 

‘^Look there, he exclaimed, pointing across 
the fields in the direction of Trenton. 

A figure on horseback could be dimly seen 
riding at top speed towards the advancing Con- 
tinental Army. 


218 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


THE VOICE AGAIN 

The Continental Army at the time the horse- 
man was discovered was passing Bear Swamp, 
headed for the Quaker Eoad, the highway used 
by the Society of Friends in going from Cross- 
wicks to the Stony Brook Meeting House on the 
outskirts of the village of Princeton. 

The horseman raced across the fields, lifted 
his horse over a high rail fence with all the 
skill of a steeplechase rider, and approached 
the army on its left flank. Hundreds of eyes 
were turned curiously in the direction of the 
mysterious rider. 

‘Ht^s a negro, exclaimed Edward, always 
noted for his sharp eyesight. 

‘‘Sure enough,’’ said John. “Who can he 
be? A messenger, I suppose.” 

Nearer and nearer came the rider. He 
seemed to be headed straight for the position 
in the line held by the Middlesex Eegiment, and 
presently he drew rein in front of Captain Bob- 
bins. 


219 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


lookin’ foah de Middlesex Eeg’ment,” 
lie exclaimed, extremely short of breath. 

^^Here it is,” said Captain Robbins. ^‘We 
can’t stop. Walk your horse along beside us 
and tell me what you want.” 

‘Hs dis de Middlesex Reg’ment?” said the 
colored rider in surprise. ‘^Wbat yo’ know 
about mab fin ’in’ it der first crack?” 

That’s Mr. Hunt’s colored servant,” Sam- 
uel Smith exclaimed suddenly to John. ^‘Tbe 
one who told me about the man in the uniform 
of our regiment coming to see Colonel Rail on 
Christmas night. Do you remember?” 

‘ ‘ Indeed I do remember, ’ ’ said J obn. ^ ‘ What 
can be be doing here ? ’ ’ 

It bad grown quite light, and it was now pos- 
sible to recognize faces. The negro on the 
horse was looking eagerly at every one in that 
part of the line, and presently bis eyes rested 
upon Samuel Smith. Evidently be was the man 
be was searching for. 

^tDere’s Mistah Smif,” be exclaimed. 
‘‘Could I talk with him, Cap’n?” 

Captain Robbins looked around at Samuel 
Smith, and beckoned him out of the line. A 
moment later, Samuel Smith on one side of 
220 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


the horse and Captain Eohbins on the other, 
the three men were engaged in earnest con- 
versation. John, Edward and Thomas could 
not hear what was being said and were obliged 
to wait until Samuel Smith should resume his 
place and report to them. For a full ten min- 
utes the negro talked busily to his two listeners, 
they interrupting him occasionally with a ques- 
tion. 

Presently he and Captain Bobbins hurried 
on ahead, and Samuel Smith resumed his place 
at John’s right. His brow was wrinkled and 
a scowl was on his face. 

‘‘Well?” said John, unable to restrain his 
curiosity. 

“Bad business,” said Samuel Smith, shaking 
his head. 

“What’s happened?” demanded John in 
alarm. “Tell us.” 

“That negro is Mr. Hunt’s servant as I told 
you,” said Samuel Smith. “His story is a 
remarkable one.” He lowered his voice. 
“Last night his master — who, by the way, 
seems to he an out and out Tory now — took 
him to the house where Lord Cornwallis has 
his headquarters. That in itself is not so re- 
221 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

markable, but the reason for Mr. Hunt^s going 
there is. 

‘Ht seems that at about half past ten last 
night — an hour after "we started, remember that 
— a man came to Mr. Hunt^s house and knocked 
on the door. This servant opened it for him, 
and noticed that he wore the uniform of our 
regiment. The man stood in the shadow where 
the negro could not see his face, but the minute 
he spoke he knew it was the same man who 
had come to the house with the message for 
Colonel Rail on Christmas night. He says he 
had the same high-pitched voice and talked 
through his nose and there is no chance of his 
having mistaken him. 

‘‘The man wanted to see Mr. Hunt, and when 
the servant called his master the negro says 
he just couldnT help eavesdropping. Mr. Hunt 
stepped out onto the porch and he listened in- 
side at the door. ‘They^re breaking camp,’ he 
heard the soldier say, ‘and they’re starting for 
Princeton.’ That much he heard distinctly, and 
is ready to swear to it. He only heard snatches 
of the remainder of the conversation, but he 
had heard enough to acquaint him with what 
was transpiring. 


222 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


“Presently, he says, he heard the informer 
moving away and he hurried off to the kitchen 
so his master wouldnT find him listening by 
the door. A few moments later Mr. Hunt came 
out to the kitchen, looking for him, and ordered 
him to get his coat and accompany him to Lord 
Cornwallis ’ headquarters. 

“When they got there Mr. Hunt left him 
outside and so he heard nothing of the conver- 
sation between Mr. Hunt and Lord Cornwallis, 
but he supposes — and of course he’s right — 
that his master was giving Cornwallis the news 
he had just received from our friend with the 
nasal voice. He himself passed the time talk- 
ing with a sentry outside the house, and the 
soldier told him how as soon as the sun rose 
this morning they were going to drive the rebels 
out of their positions and into either the Del- 
aware River or the Atlantic Ocean, he didn’t 
care which.” 

Samuel Smith paused for a moment. “What 
do you think about it all?” he demanded an- 
grily. 

“I for one think that somebody ought to be 
hanged for a spy,” exclaimed John. 

“And that some one is?” 

223 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

^^Eobinson/’ said John in a low voice. 

must be,’’ said Edward eagerly. ^^Tbe 
man went to Mr. Hunt’s an hour after the army 
had left camp. Eobinson was left behind to 
act as sentry and he must have stolen across 
the creek and hurried up to Mr. Hunt with the 
news just as fast as he could.” 

‘‘Why^ should he have gone to Mr. Huntf” 
said John. ‘‘Why didn’t he go straight to Lord 
Cornwallis 1 ’ ’ 

“That’s what I said,” Samuel Smith ex- 
claimed. “ Captain Eobbins explained that 
though, I think. He said that probably Eobin- 
son was working hand in glove with Mr. Hunt, 
that Hunt undoubtedly sold his information to 
the British and was known to them, and that 
Eobinson considered it easier and simpler to 
pass the news on through the usual channel.” 

“Captain Eobbins doesn’t think Eobinson is 
a regular British spy then?” 

“No, he considers him something worse, a 
man who for money will betray his own people, 
a man who will work with the enemy when 
the occasion demands it, as for instance when 
he followed you to the Van Pelts’ in order to 
capture the message you were carrying, but 
224 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


not regularly enrolled in the British army.^^ 

^‘Not a spy, then, but a traitor,’^ observed 
Edward. 

‘^Exactly.’’ 

intend to accuse him to his face the next 
time I see him,’’ exclaimed Edward hotly. 

‘‘Tell us what happened next,” said John, 
interested in the story. 

“Well, as I was saying,” Samuel Smith con- 
tinued, “the negro servant — ^his name is Tom — 
waited outside for Mr. Hunt. Presently he 
came out and they went back home. Tom mean- 
while, who is a loyal patriot and who has done 
a little spying on his own account right in his 
own house, was fearful lest the news his master 
had conveyed to Lord Cornwallis would ruin all 
our plans. He resolved to steal one of his mas- 
ter’s horses, ride for all he was worth towards 
Princeton and give us warning.” 

“And he looked for the Middlesex Eegiment 
because that was the kind of uniform Eobinson 
wore,” Edward explained. 

“Yes,” said Samuel Smith, “that’s right. 
As a matter of fact he did not have to steal 
one of Mr. Hunt’s horses, however. Every- 
thing worked out beautifully for him. When 
225 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

they got home Mr. Hunt informed him that 
he was sending him upon an important and 
dangerous errand. Tom couldnT guess what 
it was and when his master told him it was 
to ride to Princeton immediately he was so 
surprised and overjoyed that he was afraid 
he would show it in his face and ruin every- 
thing.’’ 

‘^Mr. Hunt must trust him,” said John. 

^‘Absolutely. Well, the upshot of it all was 
that Mr. Hunt handed him a message to be 
delivered to Colonel Mawhood, provided him 
with a safe conduct through the lines signed 
by one of Cornwallis’ aides who seemed in- 
clined to believe the story, put him on his best 
horse and told him to ride for his life.” 

“I wonder Mr. Hunt didn’t go himself,” said 
John. 

“He trusted Tom implicitly,” said Samuel 
Smith, and he added with a laugh, “Tom him- 
self says he is a better horseman than his 
master. No doubt he’s right and that would 
explain it.” 

“Who is Colonel Mawhood?” inquired Ed- 
ward. 

‘ ‘ The British commander at Princeton. Cap- 
226 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


tain Bobbins opened the note Tom had and 
found it a warning that our army was on its 
way to attack him/’ 

^‘Written by Lord Cornwallis asked John. 

‘‘No, by Mr. Hunt. It’s barely possible that 
Cornwallis didn’t believe Hunt’s story, for Tom 
says his master seemed to be awfully upset 
about something when he came out from his 
interview and kept muttering and cursing un- 
der his breath all the way home.” 

“Let us hope he didn’t believe it,” exclaimed 
John fervently. “That would help us a great 
deal. ’ ’ 

Captain Bobbins returned to their place in 
the line at that moment and signaled Samuel 
Smith, Edward and John to step out of the 
ranks. 

“Special work for you three,” he explained. 
“I presume you are familiar with the lay of 
the land around Princeton.” 

“I know every inch of it,” said Samuel 
Smith. ‘ ‘ I love every particle of it too. I was 
born the other side of yonder hill and my father 
before me, and that’s where my home is now. 
I should say I did know it.” 

“We’ve walked over it all enough to know 

227 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

it in our sleep almost, haven T we, Edward 
John exclaimed. ‘‘Indeed we have.’’ 

“Just as I thought,” said Captain Robbins. 
“Come along.” 

They hurried forward towards the head of 
the column, which was dimly to be seen in the 
faint light, just approaching the bridge over 
Stony Brook the other side of which was the 
Quaker Meeting House. 

“The main column is to take the back road,” 
Captain Robbins explained. “You three are to 
accompany General Mercer, who has with him 
portions of the Maryland, Virginia and Penn- 
sylvania brigades and a couple of field pieces 
under Captain Neal. He may need you as 
guides. ’ ’ 

They caught up with General Mercer’s bri- 
gade just as it was crossing Stony Brook. On 
the east bank they left the main army and 
turned to the left, taking the road which runs 
parallel to the stream. 

“Know where we’re going *?” John inquired 
of a burly backwoodsman beside him. 

“To tear down the Post Road bridge, I 
hear, ’ ’ the man replied sulkily. ‘ ‘ Personally I ’d 
rather sleep.” 


228 


THE VOICE AGAIN 


John relayed the information about the 
bridge to Samuel Smith. 

‘‘Of course,” that individual exclaimed, “the 
idea being to make it more difficult for Corn- 
wallis to catch up with us, once he gets started 
in pursuit. The bridge down would hold him 
up for quite a while. I reckon he’s found out 
by now — if he didn’t believe it last night — that 
Mr. Hunt told the truth, and you can wager 
your last shilling that he’ll be hotfooting it to- 
wards Princeton. He’ll take the Post Koad, 
of course, that being the shortest route. I kind 
of hate to tear down the old bridge, because 
it has been a good friend of mine, but I sup- 
pose it must be done.” 

At that moment a horseman came tearing 
along the road behind them, riding at break- 
neck speed. As he came alongside the column 
headed by Mercer he shouted at the top of his 
voice. 

“The British,” he cried and pointed ahead 
in the direction of Worth’s Mill and the bridge 
over Stony Brook. “The British are coming 
back across the bridge to head you off.” 


229 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE FIGHT IN THE ORCHAED 

General. Mercer immediately halted his column 
and as the messenger came np with him, he 
questioned him closely. A moment later orders 
were given and the column left the road and 
hastened as fast as they could go in the direc- 
tion of the high ground to their right.^ 

No one thought of sleep now. Weariness and 
fatigue were forgotten. The enemy was at 
hand. The battle was about to be joined. 

‘^Can it be Cornwallis here so quickly?” 
panted John as they struggled up the hill at 
right angles to Stony Brook. 

‘‘Not possibly,” exclaimed Samuel Smith. 
“Mawhood must have been on his way to Tren- 
ton, seen us and turned back.” 

As they reached the top of the hill they could 
see the leading brigade of the Continental 
Army — General Sullivan ^s division — proceed- 
ing along the back road towards the heights, 


1 Mercer Heights. 


230 


THE FIGHT IN THE OECHAED 


parallel to the course they themselves were fol- 
lowing. Ahead of them was an apple orchard 
and their way lay under the trees. So far they 
had seen nothing of the enemy, but every man 
seemed to sense their proximity. 

They entered the orchard. They were march- 
ing at quick time now, in a westerly direction, 
and with General Mercer at their head were 
making all possible speed to join up with Gen- 
eral Sullivan. 

Suddenly from behind a fence on their left 
and on the edge of the orchard there came the 
sharp bark of a volley of musketry fire, and a 
rain of shot ripped through the branches, over 
their heads. 

‘‘Left wheel,’’ shouted General Mercer with- 
out a moment’s hesitation. “Forward at quick 
time, march!” 

With a shout the Continentals dashed for- 
ward. The enemy could now be seen behind a 
bank and a fence at the edge of the orchard. 
The Continentals wheeled into line, poured a 
volley into the ranks of the British, and then 
continued their advance. 

The British fell back hastily. 

A roar from Mercer’s men greeted this with- 
231 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

drawal and they ran at full speed towards the 
fence lately held by the enemy. This fence 
offered the best protection of anything in the 
neighborhood. 

^‘They^re running/’ shouted John excitedly, 
and he fell on one knee and proceeded to reload 
his musket with buckshot and ball. 

The British did run, but not far. Their packs 
had been left lying in a line about fifty yards 
distant; they retreated to that spot, threw 
themselves upon their stomachs, and using the 
packs for protection returned the fire of the 
Continentals. 

General Mercer had been mounted on a hand- 
some gray horse, but one of the enemy’s bullets 
struck it in the foreleg and he was obliged to 
abandon it. He ran up and down behind his 
men, encouraging them and directing their fire. 
And their fire was most destructive. Gaps ap- 
peared in the British ranks and it began to look 
as if victory was well within Mercer’s grasp. 

‘‘Give it to ’em, John,” cried Samuel Smith, 
his face grimy with powder smoke. “They’re 
weakening. ’ ’ 

His statement seemed to be true, but at that 
moment a large reenforcement of British ap- 
232 


THE FIGHT IN THE OECHAED 


peared over the crest of the rise of ground in 
the rear, and hurried forward to join their com- 
rades. Squads of them were dragging two field 
pieces with them, and a moment later they were 
in position on a small knoll where stood a sol- 
itary oak tree, on the right of the British line. 
Almost directly opposite this spot Captain Neal 
had placed his two pieces, on the Continental 
left, just beyond the northwest corner of the 
orchard. 

The British reenforcements consisted of Colo- 
nel Mawhood himself, the 17th regiment of in- 
fantry, part of the 55th, and fifty light horse. 

‘^Now for a real fight,’’ cried Samuel Smith. 

The field pieces were soon in action and both 
sides were raked with canister and hall. The 
air was filled with the smoke of battle, mingled 
with the hoarse commands of the officers, the 
shouts of the men, and the groans of the 
wounded. 

One man, on John’s left, rose to his feet, 
leaned his rifle on the top of the fence and took 
careful aim. Before he could fire, a hall from 
a British musket struck him over the right eye 
and he crumpled to the ground, dead. The 
fence in front of the spot where John, Edward 
233 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

and Samuel Smith were located was torn away 
by a charge of canister. The British rifle fire 
was increasing in intensity every moment. The 
Continentals were badly outnumbered, and 
presently their line began to waver. 

A pale-faced soldier next to Edward sud- 
denly sprang to his feet, threw down his rifle, 
turned his back to the enemy and ran through 
the orchard as fast as his legs could carry him. 
Presently another man did the same thing. 
Others began to look anxiously about them as 
if for some avenue of escape. 

The redcoats were quick to see the irresolu- 
tion of the Continentals, and with a shout they 
rushed forward, bayonets fixed. Mercer ^s men 
waited for no more, but turned and fled. Colo- 
nel Haslet of the Delaware Continentals was 
racing up and down like a crazy man, begging, 
threatening and pleading with his soldiers to 
stay their flight and reform their lines. It was 
of no use. The American resistance was broken. 
They scrambled pell-mell over the fence on the 
south side of the orchard and started up the 
slope beyond the outbuildings of the Thomas 
Clark bam. 

As John, Edward and Samuel reached this 
234 


THE FIGHT IN THE OECHAED 


spot they saw Colonel Haslet fall, dying, a bul- 
let bole through his head. A few yards away 
Captain Neal was lying lifeless. 

‘^Where’s General Mercer cried John 
breathlessly. 

Samuel Smith stopped running and looked 
back. 

‘‘He^s still in the orchard,’’ he exclaimed, and 
instantly started to retrace his steps the way 
he had come. 

The redcoats were swarming under the trees 
now, clubbing, stabbing and bayoneting every 
Continental they could find. General Mercer, 
clad in a surtout, was still in the orchard and 
as Samuel Smith raced towards him he saw 
him drop, struck over the head with the butt 
of a musket. As he fell one of the redcoats 
kicked him and then he shouted exultantly: 

^‘He’s a general,” and several other British 
rushed up to the spot where the wounded com- 
mander lay stretched upon the ground. 

‘‘Call for quarters, you damn rebel,” one of 
them demanded. 

“Hessian officers may surrender, but Ameri- 
cans never, ’ ’ retorted Mercer angrily. He held 
his sword in his right hand and as he spoke he 
235 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

tried to rise to his feet, and lunged at his assail- 
ants with it. Immediately one of the redcoats 
plunged his bayonet into the wounded general 
lying at his feet. Mercer sank back with a 
groan and lay limp and defenseless on the 
ground, whereupon the entire party of British 
bayoneted him repeatedly. 

At that moment Samuel Smith arrived upon 
the scene. John and Edward were watching 
him from the shelter of Mr. Clark’s smoke- 
house. He held his rifle in his two hands, grasp- 
ing it tightly by the barrel, and he swung it 
about his head like a flail. Never hesitating an 
instant he jumped fairly into the center of the 
group of redcoats standing over General 
Mercer, and with a roar like the bellow of a 
wounded bull began to lay about him. 

His first blow sent one of the British soldiers 
spinning headlong against a tree. The second 
crushed in the head of the redcoat next to him 
as if it had been an eggshell. Taken completely 
by surprise these two men had had neither 
chance to escape nor to defend themselves. The 
others gave one look at Samuel Smith and 
turned and scurried away like frightened 
rabbits. 


236 


THE FIGHT IN THE OECHAED 


Samuel Smith made no attempt to follow 
them. He leaned over, picked the general up in 
his arms, swung him over his shoulder as if he 
had been a bag of meal, and started after his 
retreating comrades as fast as his burden would 
permit. Up the slope he ran, past the farm 
outbuildings and into the farmhouse itself with 
his precious load. 

The British meanwhile were pursuing the 
fleeing Continentals up the slope, and presently 
J ohn and Edward were obliged to abandon their 
position by the smokehouse. Captain NeaFs 
two field pieces had fallen into the hands of the 
British, and these together with the two they 
had had already, gave them four cannon to turn 
against the Americans. 

‘‘Where is the main armyT’ panted Edward 
as they ran. 

As he spoke the head of a column of Con- 
tinental troops appeared over the crest of the 
slope in back of the Clark farmhouse. John, 
Edward and the rest of Mercer ^s men were 
heading directly towards them, in full flight. 

“Wait, Edward,” cried John. “There’s no 
need of running now.” 

They halted and looked back. The British 

237 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

too had seen the American reenforcements and 
checked their pursuit. There was a fence at 
the bottom of the slope; behind this fence the 
redcoats posted themselves, and opened fire 
with their rifles upon the militia above, for the 
American reenforcements consisted mostly of 
Pennsylvania volunteers under General Cad- 
walader. 

‘^Lie down here,’^ cried John, and threw him- 
self to the ground behind a large boulder in one 
corner of the field. Edward crouched down be- 
side John, and from this point of vantage they 
had a clear view of the British below them, and 
were also well protected from their fire. They 
did not remain in this spot long, however, for 
a moment later a party of Continental infantry 
started to run full speed down the hill, aiming 
for the left of the British line and with the 
evident intention of getting behind it. At 
almost the same moment an American battery 
was trundled into position and opened fire at 
extremely short range on the redcoats behind 
the fence. 

‘‘Theyfll soon leave, John predicted excit- 
edly. And they did. In less than five minutes 
the British had abandoned their posts along the 
238 


THE FIGHT IN THE ORCHARD 


fence and were hurrying post haste back the 
way they had come, to the place where the main 
body of their troops were stationed. 

‘‘We’d better get back to the regiment,” said 
John. “I wonder where Samuel is? Right 
there,” he exclaimed suddenly as a burly figure 
emerged from the farmhouse and came running 
rapidly in their direction. 

“How’s General Mercer?” demanded John. 

“Badly hurt,” said Samuel Smith shortly. 

“Will he recover?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Any one with him to take care of him?” 

“Plenty,” said Samuel Smith. “Where ’re 
the British?” 

As he spoke a rifle ball lifted his hat from off 
his head and knocked him down. 

John and Edward were instantly at his side. 

“Are your hurt?” they demanded in one 
voice. 

Samuel Smith sat up and rubbed his head. 
“No,” he growled, “but I know where the 
British are now.” He shook his fist in their 
direction. He picked his torn hat up, looked at 
it ruefully, and replaced it on his head. 

Meanwhile General Cadwalader was trying 
239 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

to form tlie militia on the crest of the slope, and 
having an extremely difficult time of it. The 
British were showering them with grape shot, 
and being unused to artillery fire and lacking 
discipline he found it an almost impossible 
task. He was out in front of his men, trying to 
form the line, and attempting to get the detach- 
ments to file off, one to the right, the next one to 
the left, and so on alternately. 

But it was of no use. It is doubtful if the 
militia could have performed this mianeuver 
on the parade ground with the enemy nowhere 
near. Under fire it was impossible. 

‘‘Where’s the Middlesex!” demanded Sam- 
uel Smith. “Mercer’s men are scattered and I 
suppose our duty is to get back to our own 
regiment as fast as we can. ’ ’ 

“No sign of it,” said Edward. 

“Let’s join up with that battery then,” Sam- 
uel Smith exclaimed, and indicated Captain 
Moulder’s battery, which had driven the British 
advance line back from the fence and was now 
stationed to the right of the farmhouse. “They 
seem to be closer to the British than any of the 
others.” 

Without waiting to get the opinions of his 
240 


THE FIGHT IN THE OECHAED 

young friends on this suggestion he started off 
at a run, and John and Edward followed. The 
battery was pouring a destructive fire at the 
British position and doing more than anything 
else to prevent Colonel Mawhood from leading 
his men in a charge on the demoralized Amer- 
ican militia on the crest of the slope. They 
were still raking the Continentals with grape 
shot, however, and in spite of General Cad- 
walader^s frenzied efforts his troops suddenly 
broke and ran. 

‘^Here come their cavalry/^ shouted John. 

The British, seeing the American militia re- 
tire, had immediately sent their light horse to 
flank the Continental army, take possession 
of the high ground and consolidate the position. 
But Captain Moulder held his ground by the 
farmhouse and turned his guns on the advanc- 
ing horsemen. Two rounds of canister were 
enough and the cavalry was dispersed and 
forced to retire to their former position. 

A moment later Captain Eodney with one 
hundred and fifty Continental infantrymen 
dashed through the British line of fire and 
joined forces with Captain Moulder ^s battery. 
These men kept up a continuous rifle fire on 
241 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


the enemy and with the aid of the two field 
pieces held them at bay. 

By this time the American generals had suc- 
ceeded in bringing the New England troops up 
from the rear to support the wavering militia. 
Under General Hitchcock they were advancing 
around the eastern end of the hill so as to get 
in the rear of the British left flank and en- 
velope it. Beyond them was a company of 
Pennsylvania riflemen proceeding in the same 
direction, and with the object of carrying the 
flanking movement still further. 

John^s powder horn was empty. He had used 
every ounce of powder he had had and as he 
turned to Edward to borrow some of his he 
looked up towards the top of the hill and saw 
General George Washington himself, on a large 
roan horse, riding at the head of a detachment 
of troops, directly in the line of the British fire. 

Edward,’^ cried John. ^‘Look. Look, 
Samuel. ’ ’ 

His two friends turned at his call. 

‘‘Hedl be killed, gasped Edward in an awe- 
struck voice. 

^‘He’s too reckless,’^ cried Samuel Smith, 
and in his voice was a sharp note of anguish. 

242 


THE FIGHT IN THE OKCHAED 


But Washington led his column on over the 
hill, seemingly unconscious of any danger, his 
whole attention directed to encouraging and 
stimulating the men who followed him. Coolly 
and unconcernedly he led his men on. Nar- 
rower and narrower grew the space between the 
opposing lines. 

John felt a sickening sensation in the pit of 
his stomach as he saw the Commander-in-Chief 
of the Continental Army advancing to what 
seemed certain death. Then he saw the line 
halt, while the Continental soldiers knelt and 
brought their muskets to their shoulders. Out 
of the comer of his eye he saw the British rifles 
leveled at the American troops opposite. 

He shut his eyes, unable to bear the sight of 
what he felt was certain to come. 


243 


CHAPTER XX 


VICTOEY 

It seemed to Jolin as if the shots would never 
come. Hours seemed to be encompassed within 
the few seconds that elapsed before the ex- 
pected volley was fired. And in those seconds 
John saw in his mind’s eye a picture of General 
Washington laid low upon the ground, lifeless, 
with the army, completely demoralized at the 
death of their general, fleeing or throwing down 
their arms and surrendering. The vision made 
him shudder. 

Then came the roar of musketry and with 
the crash these unpleasant pictures faded from 
John’s mind. Still he dared not look. 

Suddenly a shout of joy came to his ears. 
Men were cheering in a frenzy of excitement. 
Then John opened his eyes and discovered the 
reason. A cloud of smoke was rising over the 
battlefield, and in the center of it was General 
Washington, sitting on his horse, waving his 
244 


VICTORY 

hat in one hand, and cheering his men on to the 
attack. 

The Continentals swept on down the hill, stop- 
ping every little while to reload and fire a vol- 
ley at the enemy. General Hitchcock was on 
General Washington's left and the two columns 
kept pace. 

‘ ‘ Come on, hoys, ^ ’ shouted Samuel Smith, and 
springing to his feet he ran at top speed across 
the field towards the division led by General 
Washington. John and Edward waited for no 
more, but followed close at Samuel Smith’s 
heels. 

A moment later they joined up with the rem- 
nants of Mercer’s and Cadwalader’s brigade, 
the militia which by reason of their lack of disci- 
pline had almost lost the day for the Continental 
cause. The men were of different temper now, 
however. Inspired by General Washington’s 
leadership and example, they had taken heart, 
their courage had returned, and they were on 
edge for battle. 

They ran forward, then threw themselves on 
the ground and fired, reloaded, sprang to their 
feet, rushed forward again a short distance, 
and fired again. In this way they approached 
245 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


to within one hundred yards of the British posi- 
tion. Then with a shout they threw caution to 
the winds, and charged headlong at the enemy. 

There was no stopping them now. They 
swept on over the British lines carrying all be- 
fore them. The redcoats fell back, reformed 
in front of their artillery in an effort to save 
the field pieces, but they were outnumbered, the 
Continentals were filled with the fire of victory 
and were not to be denied. The struggle was a 
sharp one, but a short one, and at the finish 
the cannon remained in the hands of the on- 
rushing Americans. 

The broken British army scattered to the four 
winds. Many of them crossed the Post Road 
and others sought safety by crossing Stony 
Brook and fleeing in the direction of Maiden- 
head where other British regiments were lo- 
cated. Detachments of Continental infantry- 
men took up the pursuit, and presently scores 
of prisoners were being rounded up and brought 
in. 

John, Edward and Samuel Smith found them- 
selves racing across the fields in pursuit of two 
flying redcoats. 

General Washington rode past them. 

246 


VICTOEY 


‘‘What a fine fox chase it is, my hoys,’’ he 
cried exultantly. ‘ ‘ Bring in all the brushes you 
can find.” 

The two men they were pursuing were headed 
for a patch of woods bordering Stony Brook. 
They were fleet of foot and steadily gained on 
the three Continentals who were following 
them. 

“We’re going to lose them, John,” panted 
Edward. He was rather large to qualify as a 
runner and in addition he was short of breath. 

Samuel Smith was ahead of the two boys. 
He turned and called to them. 

“Cut in over there to the left and then fol- 
low along the bank of the brook,” he shouted. 
“It bends in those woods and I’ll go to the 
right and then double back, keeping close to 
the bank till I meet you two. We can trap them 
sure. ’ ’ 

He turned sharply to the right, and J ohn and 
Edward went otf to the left. The men they 
were chasing could be seen entering the woods 
about a hundred yards in advance. 

“I remember this place,” John exclaimed. 
“There’s a sharp turn in the brook in those 
woods, with high, steep banks.” 

247 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


A few moments later they came to the edge of 
the stream. It had worn its way deep into the 
earth at this point and the bottom was covered 
with large flat stones, over which the water 
slipped, making the footing treacherous for 
any one who tried to cross. The bank twenty 
feet above was lined with big trees, bare of 
leaves now, and the woods were open, so that a 
clear view was afforded for a considerable dis- 
tance in all directions. 

‘‘Keep behind the trees as much as you can, 
Edward,’^ cautioned John. “We donT want 
these Britishers to pick us off.’’ 

They turned to the right and started up- 
stream. 

“There they are,’’ cried Edward suddenly 
and ducked behind the roots of a fallen tree. 
John sprang in back of the trunk of a gnarled 
oak and cocked his rifle. Then he remembered 
that his rifle was not loaded. He had borrowed 
a little powder from Edward but it had all been 
used up. He peered cautiously around the 
trunk. 

“That’s Samuel,” he whispered to Edward. 
“I don’t see the redcoats anywhere.” 

Samuel Smith was coming through the woods 
248 


VICTORY 


in their direction, jumping from tree to tree, 
peering keenly all about him, and holding his 
rifle ready for immediate use. 

Suddenly John felt a stinging sensation in 
his left foot and at the same instant the crack 
of a rifle came to his ears. His knees began to 
tremble and he could feel himself sinking to 
the ground, while his rifle began to slide from 
his grasp. On the opposite side of the stream 
a little cloud of blue smoke floated lazily sky- 
ward in the winter air and beneath it, hiding 
under a rock, he saw the two men they were pur- 
suing. 

‘ ‘ Come out of there, ^ ’ he heard Samuel Smith 
shout. ‘‘Throw down your rifles and come out 
of there. Quick!’’ 

Hot, searing pains shot up and down John’s 
left leg. He felt sick at his stomach, and it was 
only by the strongest exercise of his will that 
he managed to hold on to the tree and keep 
himself from falling. The pains were in his 
leg; his left foot had no feeling in it whatso- 
ever, but it was his foot that the ball had struck, 
for his boot had a jagged hole in it and a thin 
stream of blood was trickling out of the open- 
ing. 


249 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘Come out of there, I said,^^ he heard Sam- 
uel Smith say once more. “Quick, too!^^ 

All of this had taken only a moment, and al- 
most instantly Edward had sprung to his 
friend ^s side. 

“What is it, JohnT’ he inquired in a fright- 
ened voice. 

“I’m shot.’’ 

‘ ‘ Where ! Show me. ’ ’ 

John indicated his foot, and tried to smile. 
The attempt was a sickly failure, however, and 
it was only by the narrowest of margins that 
he kept himself from fainting. 

“Shall I take your hoot off?” 

“No,” said John. “Don’t touch it. I’ll be 
all right in a minute.” 

His looks belied this statement, however. 
His face had grown ashen pale, and the pain in 
his leg seemed to increase as the minutes 
passed. 

“Where’s Samuel?” he inquired. 

“In back of you,” said Edward, “walking 
this way. ’ ’ 

John turned his head. Coming towards the 
spot where he lay propped against the tree were 
two burly redcoats, grimy with the smoke and 
250 


VICTORY 


dust of battle, and very angry looking. Behind 
them walked Samuel Smith, his rifle hanging 
carelessly in the hollow of his right elbow, the 
two rifles belonging to the redcoats in his left 
hand. A grin of pride was on his countenance, 
but this expression changed immediately to 
one of anxiety and concern as he observed that 
J ohn was in trouble. 

^‘What^s the matter, JohnT^ he demanded. 

‘^Shot in the foot,’^ said Edward. 

‘‘One o’ you did it,” cried Samuel Smith, 
turning angrily on his prisoners. “I’ve a good 
mind to knock you both over the head.” 

The two redcoats looked nervously at the 
speaker as if they fully expected him to carry 
out his threat. Samuel Smith was no murderer, 
however, and presently he turned away. 

“Here, Edward,” he cried. “Take this rifle 
and keep your eye on these two robins. If they 
try to run away, shoot.” 

He turned to J ohn. 

“Shot in the foot, eh? Let me see it.” 

John thrust out his leg. 

“First of all we must get that boot off,” ex- 
claimed Samuel Smith. 

John started to protest, but it was no use. 

251 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Samuel Smith whipped out his knife and began 
to cut away the leather, paying no attention to 
the fact that he was rapidly ruining the boot. 

Footes too swollen to draw it he ex- 
plained shortly. 

A moment later he had drawn otf John’s 
sock and on his hands and knees was examining 
the wound. 

‘‘Why there’s the ball itself,” he exclaimed, 
and with the point of his knife blade he pricked 
the rifle bullet out from under the skin where 
it had lodged itself. 

“The bone is bruised, I guess,” he announced 
a moment later. “It’s not bad though, and will 
be well in no time.” 

As a matter of fact the pain had greatly les- 
sened already, and John began to feel decidedly 
improved. Samuel Smith took his kerchief, tore 
it into strips and bound them tightly about the 
wound, wrapping the soft cloth entirely around 
the foot. 

“Feel better?” he asked. 

“Much better,” said John. 

“Can you walk?” 

“Not without a shoe.” 

Samuel Smith immediately arose to his feet. 

252 


VICTORY 


He walked over to the spot where the two pris- 
oners were standing, and indicated the boot the 
smaller man was wearing on his left foot. 

‘‘Take it off,” he said. 

The captured soldier did not hesitate. He 
stood on one foot, grasped the sole of his boot 
in his two hands and pulled. The boot came off 
and he handed it to Samuel Smith, who took it 
without a word, knelt in front of John again 
and began to assist him in pulling it on. 

“It’ll fit,” he announced. “How does it 
feel?” 

“All right,” said John, “but what’ll our 
friend do ? ” 

“He’ll walk with one boot off,” said Samuel 
Smith dryly. “How about you? Gan you 
walk?” 

He assisted John to rise to his feet and the 
young infantryman put his wounded foot gin- 
gerly to the ground. A wisp of pain crossed his 
face. 

“Hurt?” asked Samuel Smith. 

“Yes,” said John. “Rather badly.” 

“Lean on me,” said Samuel Smith. “We’ll 
get on slowly. Lean just as heavily as you 
want. Come on, Edward, we’re going in to 
253 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


Princeton. Bring along those two men that 
John calls ‘our friends.^ 1^11 take my rifle, and 
you keep your eye on them to see they don’t try 
any of their tricks on us.” 

They started off in the direction of the vil- 
lage, the two prisoners in advance, followed by 
Edward carrying their rifles and his own mus- 
ket, and in back of him J ohn leaning on Samuel 
Smith with one arm around his shoulders, while 
Samuel Smith carried John’s rifle and his own 
in his free hand. 

Progress was slow. John could not help but 
wince every time he put his injured foot to the 
ground, and he was obliged to rest most of his 
weight on his companion. It was an hour after 
they had started in pursuit of the two fugitives 
before they returned to the Post Road running 
from Princeton to Trenton. When they came 
to it they turned to the left and continued their 
slow progress towards the village. There was 
no trace of either army to be seen. 

Ever since they had set out to capture the 
two redcoats who were now their prisoners, 
however, the sound of almost continuous firing 
had come to their ears. Mostly it had been the 
254 


VICTORY 


sharp bark of musketry, but for a few moments 
there had been mingled with it the noise of can- 
nonading. As closely as they could judge the 
firing was taking place to the northwest of Mr. 
Clarkes farm, on the southwest of the village of 
Princeton. 

As they neared the town the firing broke out 
again, almost directly ahead of them. Then 
from the rear came the sound of more firing. 

“What is it, do you suppose?’’ demanded 
John. 

“Well,” said Samuel Smith, “my guess is 
that the firing we hear up ahead comes from 
our men who are pursuing what is left of Maw- 
hood’s brigade. It sounds to me as if they were 
just about at Nassau Hall. Those guns in back 
of us I am afraid belong to Cornwallis. ’ ’ 

“You think he has come as far as this al- 
ready?” 

“I’m afraid so. After all, he’s had plenty of 
time. I imagine that General Washington left 
a detachment at the Stony Brook bridge to de- 
lay his march and that the British advance 
guard has now come in contact with them.” 

“We’ll be captured,” cried Edward in alarm. 
255 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


^‘We^re not captured yet, are weP^ de- 
manded Samuel Smith irritably. ‘ ‘ We T be cap- 
tured when they catch us, and not before. ^ ’ 

At that moment the figure of a man running 
at top speed appeared in the road ahead of 
them. He was approaching the three Conti- 
nentals and their two prisoners, but when he 
saw them he left the road and darted into a 
group of trees in front of ‘‘Morven,’’ the estate 
of Mr. Richard Stockton.^ 

‘‘Who was thatP’ demanded Edward. 

“DonT know,’^ said Samuel Smith. “He 
didn’t look like a soldier.” 

They continued their slow march and pres- 
ently were directly opposite the clump of trees 
into which the man had disappeared. They 
kept a sharp watch for signs of him, but saw 
nothing and a few moments later had passed 
the spot. 

‘ ‘ Mistah Smif . ’ ’ 

Samuel Smith stopped short and looked 
around. 

“Why, Tom,” he exclaimed. “Where did 
you come from?” 

It was Tom, Mr. Hunt’s negro servant, and 

1 A member of Princeton’s first graduating class, 1748. 

256 


VICTORY 

he was grinning from ear to ear at the sight of 
his friends. 

^‘Ah jus^ come fum dose trees/’ he said, in- 
dicating the grove in front of ‘^Morven.” ^^Ah 
seen yo’ all coming along de road an’ Ah 
thought yo’ was dem British. Ah suttinly am 
glad yo’se not.” 

The sound of firing came again to their ears 
from the direction of Stony Brook. The two 
redcoated prisoners glanced back hopefully, 
but the noise was extremely unwelcome to the 
three Continentals. 

‘‘Come,” urged Samuel Smith. “We’d best 
be moving on. Come along with us, Tom, and 
tell us where you ’ve been all day. ’ ’ 

Progress was resumed. John’s injured foot 
gave him considerable pain, and he found walk- 
ing increasingly difficult as time went on. But 
he gritted his teeth and marched along bravely. 

“Ah’s jus’ come fum Nassa Hall,” said Tom. 
“De British dey done run fob all dey’s wuth, 
with de Cont’nentals right on dere heels. Dey 
chase dem right along de back road an’ up to 
de college an’ w’en dey get up to de college de 
British dey run inside. Den the Cont’nentals 
257 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

bring dere big cannon up an’ dey begin to shoot 
at de buildin’. Mistah Smif, Ah doan lak dem 
cannons. Ah hear de firs’ one go off an’ den 
Ah leaves. ’ ’ 

Tom shook his head vigorously. ‘^No, suh,” 
he said. 

‘^Bombarding Nassau Hall?” exclaimed John 
in alarm. 

“Hat’s jus’ what dey was doin’,” said Tom 
soberly. 

“The building is probably destroyed,” cried 
John anxiously. “What a pity. And by our 
own men too.” 

“I doubt if it’s destroyed,” said Samuel 
Smith. “In the first place I don’t think cannon 
could do much harm to a solid stone building 
like that, and in the second place the cannonad- 
ing from what I heard of it only lasted a few 
minutes. I imagine the British who were inside 
came out and surrendered before any serious 
damage was done. Am I right, Tom?” 

“ ’Deed Ah doan know,” said Tom. “Ah 
left. Ah doan lak dem cannons.” 

“We’ll find out for ourselves before long,” 
said Samuel Smith, “but I’ll wager my guess 
is correct.” 


258 


VICTORY 


‘^Look,’’ cried Edward suddenly. ^‘Earth- 
works. ^ ’ 

They had almost come to the place where the 
Post Road and the back road formed a junc- 
tion.^ Earthworks had been thrown up across 
the Post Road. 

“Dey was on’y two Continentals behini 
w^en Ah cum by,ii said Tom. “OnY two.’^ 

“Weill find out who they are/ said Samuel 
Smith. He turned and glanced back over his 
shoulder along the road. 

“Any one coming fi asked John. 

“Not yet.ii 

Two heads appeared over the top of the 
earthworks and Edward and Samuel Smith 
waved their caps at them. The two men waved 
back in token that they recognized them as 
comrades and a few moments later the little 
party had joined forces with them. 

“John. Edward, ii cried one of the men. 

“Professor Houston, ii exclaimed the two 
boys together. 


1 The present junction of Stockton and Mercer Streets. 
About three hundred feet from this spot is situated the 
Princeton Battle Monument, unveiled June 9, 1922, with 
ceremonies at which President Harding and Governor Edwards 
of New Jersey were among the speakers. 

259 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

Where did you spring from?^^ he demand- 
ed. 

‘^What are you doing hereU^ cried John. 

tell you/’ said their former teacher, 
shaking hands with them vigorously. had 
to stay here in Princeton so long as the college 
kept in session, and when it finally closed its 
doors I was unable to join the army because the 
village was full of British and Hessians and 
I was watched. But to-day things are ditfer- 
ent. To-day I’m fighting for my country.” 

^‘Where’s our army?” said John. 

Marching out the other end of town, I guess. 
Mawhood’s brigade has been completely de- 
feated. He must have lost six or seven hun- 
dred men if the wounded, captured and missing 
are included. This has been a great day in his- 
tory. Washington has won a great victory. 
He proved at Trenton that he could defeat the 
Hessians and to-day he has shown the colonists 
that British regulars can be beaten too. Every 
one will take heart now. We have passed from 
the defensive to the offensive. Do you know 
what we’re going to win?” 

‘Wictory,” cried Tom, and waved his hat 
wildly in the air. 


260 


VICTOEY 


‘‘Right you are,’’ exclaimed Professor Hous- 
ton. 

“But what are you doing here?” demanded 
Samuel Smith. 

“My friend Mr. Spence and I are waiting for 
Lord Cornwallis and his army to come in sight 
along the Post Road,” said Professor Houston 
lightly. ‘ ‘ Our army is leaving Princeton by the 
east and Lord Cornwallis, I understand, is ar- 
riving shortly from the west. Our men are 
tired and they are sadly outnumbered by the 
approaching enemy, so that it would be rather 
unfortunate if the two should meet. Mr. Spence 
and I discovered this nice old cannon stationed 
behind the earthworks which the Hessians threw 
up a few weeks ago while they were in Prince- 
ton, and it occurred to us we might use it to 
welcome Lord Cornwallis to Princeton. Of 
course the welcome may be of rather short dura- 
tion, but every minute that we can delay his 
lordship gives our army another minute to in- 
crease the distance between the British and 
themselves. ’ ’ 

Samuel Smith’s eyes shone. 

“An adventure after my own heart,” he 
cried. “Can’t we stay here and help?” 

261 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


may all be captured or killed/’ said 
Professor Houston. ‘‘We can’t oppose a 
whole army for long and we may not get 
away. ’ ’ 

“I repeat,” said Samuel Smith, “that it is an 
adventure after my own heart. ’ ’ Then he turned 
to John. “Your foot,” he exclaimed. “I had 
forgotten that you are wounded.” 

“I’ve forgotten it too,” said John. 


262 


CHAPTER XXI 


AT THE HEAD OF THE STKEET 

In the ensuing excitement John did forget about 
the bullet wound in his foot. It caused him 
constant suffering, however, whether he was 
consciously aware of it or not, but it did not 
prevent his bustling around as actively as any 
of the other men lying in wait behind the earth- 
works thrown up at the head of the street. 

^‘Just as we 'spied you approaching," said 
Professor Houston to John, ‘‘we were laying 
plans as to how we were to make good our es- 
cape when things get too hot for us here." 

“You see," he continued, “the earthworks 
continue for quite a distance on both sides. Our 
idea is that we can greet the British with a few 
charges and then when they show signs of rush- 
ing us — and of course they will — we can creep 
off here to the right, keeping low behind the 
earthworks, and dodge into the trees and get 
away without their seeing us." 

“That seems feasible," said John, inspect- 
263 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


ing with a critical eye the coarse they were to 
take. ‘‘What do you think, Samuel 

‘ ‘ There seems to he plenty of ammunition col- 
lected here,’’ said Samuel Smith, looking over 
the pile of iron balls piled up near the cannon, 
and the stock of powder. The ammunition in- 
terested him more than the plans for escape. , 

“Enough for forty charges or more,” said 
Professor Houston. “I reckon that if we are 
able to fire six we shall be fortunate.” 

“The idea will be to make the British think 
there is a large force here and hold them up as 
long as possible,” said John. 

“Exactly.” 

The cannon was loaded ready to fire, and all 
the rifles were primed for immediate service 
when the time came to use them. 

“Bey’s cornin’,” cried Tom suddenly. He 
had shown signs of extreme nervousness ever 
since he had heard the plans of the little band 
of Continentals, and had sp^t most of his time 
peering anxiously over the top of the earthen 
defenses, watching for the British. 

At this warning all the others took a quick 
look down the Post Eoad to obtain confirmation 
of the negro ’s statement. 

264 


AT THE HEAD OF THE STREET 


Right you are, Tom,’^ exclaimed Samuel 
Smith. ^^They^re coming.’’ 

Over the rise in the road a quarter of a mile 
distant appeared the approaching advance 
guard of the army of Lord Charles Cornwallis, 
hot on the trail of General Washington, ‘‘The 
Old Fox,” who had so outgeneraled and out- 
witted them. The British would be hard to stop 
now. They had thought the Continental Army 
was in their grasp and their over-confidence of 
the previous night had cost them the victory. 
Many persons say it cost them the war. 

People who have lost because of over-confi- 
dence are always particularly resentful towards 
those who have defeated them and Cornwallis’ 
army on that third day of January, 1777, was 
no exception to this rule. They were in an ugly 
mood and eager for a chance to come to grips 
with Washington. 

There were only five men to defend the earth- 
works, Tom beings too frightened to be of any 
use, and the two prisoners, of course, were not 
going to help. To make certain that they would 
not hinder, Samuel Smith and Edward had tied 
their arms to their sides, and trussed one 
man’s right leg to the left leg of his companion. 
265 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

^‘They can move around a little, but they 
canT go far,’’ he remarked grimly. ^‘You fel- 
lows are going to be rescued by your own army 
in a few minutes, ’ ’ he said to them, ‘ ^ so please 
don’t worry about this temporary incon- 
venience. If we hold them up for any length of 
time, though, I wish you’d be sure to tell them 
that five men did it.” 

The prisoners merely glowered at him and 
said nothing. 

The five Continentals divided themselves into 
two crews, one of three men, the other of two. 
The two were to act as gunners and fire the 
cannon, the three others to reload just as 
quickly as they could. Professor Houston and 
John were to do the firing, the three others the 
loading, as that was heavier work and Samuel 
Smith was to do the lifting of the cannon balls. 

They took their allotted places, and peered 
cautiously out at the approaching British. 

‘‘They’ll expect opposition at this point,” 
said Professor Houston. “It’s the natural 
place for a stand to be made and of course we 
don’t want to disappoint them.” 

“We disappointed them last night,” said 
John dryly. 


266 


AT THE HEAD OF THE STREET 

On came the British. Determination showed 
in their every action. Tramp, tramp, tramp. 
The sound of their tread on the frozen ground 
came to the ears of the little band behind the 
breastworks. It was an impressive sight. The 
army marched in perfect order, their red coats 
brilliant in the sunlight, their polished bayo- 
nets flashing in its rays. They looked irresisti- 
ble. 

John glanced about him. His companions 
were pale, but their jaws were tight set and 
their faces determined. Samuel Smith had a 
rifle in his hand and there was an evil glitter 
in his eyes. The two prisoners were propped 
up in a sitting position, their backs against the 
earthen wall of the fortification. Tom, who ap- 
parently had seen more than enough of war for 
one day, was crawling rapidly along the ground 
in the direction the whole party expected to take 
a short while later. 

‘^Get ready, said Professor Houston. 

At that moment one of the British officers 
gave a sharp command and John could hear it 
being repeated all the way down the line. The 
army came to a halt. Two men on horseback 
rode forward. 


267 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


‘ ^ They ’re going to try to reconnoiter ns, ’ ’ ex- 
claimed Professor Houston. ‘^Where’s a mus- 
ket?” 

He picked up one of the loaded guns lying on 
the ground and hurriedly stationed himself be- 
side Samuel Smith. The horsemen approached 
cautiously, plainly fearful that a surprise might 
be waiting for them. The two riflemen allowed 
them to come on until they were not more than 
fifty yards distant. At this point the troopers 
halted and held a consultation. 

^‘Bang.” 

The two rifles were discharged so closely to- 
gether that the reports sounded almost like one. 
One of the horsemen clutched wildly at his left 
side with both hands, and, as his mount started, 
slid off its back to the ground, where he lay in 
a limp heap. The riderless horse trotted off to 
the side of the road, while the other trooper 
wheeled and without making any attempt to in- 
vestigate what had befallen his comrade rode 
rapidly back to where the main body was halted. 

^‘That’ll make them think, I reckon,” said 
Samuel Smith grimly, as he proceeded to reload 
his rifle. 

The British officers seemed to be discussing 
268 


AT THE HEAD OF THE STREET 

what to do next, and a number of them were 
gathered in a little group busily talking. Pres- 
ently they separated and a few moments later 
two scouting parties set out, one to the right and 
the other to the left. 

‘‘Come on,’^ cried Samuel Smith, “let^s send 
them a real message.^’ 

The six pounder was sighted, John lit the 
fuse and a moment later the air was rent by the 
exploding charge. A cloud of smoke rose over 
the earthworks and a cannon ball ripped a fur- 
row through the ranks of the scouting party 
coming down the right hand side of the Post 
Road. 

J ohn and Professor Houston, the moment the 
cannon was fired, jumped aside and each pick- 
ing up a loaded musket, sent a rifle ball at the 
main body of the hesitating British. Samuel 
Smith, Edward and Mr. Spence worked like de- 
mons, reloading the cannon for the next shot, 
which shortly followed after the previous one. 
Then once more John and Professor Houston 
seized two loaded rifles and fired into the Brit- 
ish standing in the middle of the road. 

The army of Cornwallis was evidently dis- 
concerted by this strenuous welcome and pres- 
269 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

ently began to fall back. It was apparent they 
thought that a considerable force was opposed 
to them. The earthworks were well made and 
solidly constructed so that if they had in reality 
sheltered any large number of men and guns 
they could have been held for a long time 
against a superior force. 

‘‘Let^s send one after that other party, 
cried John, who was now in a fever of excite- 
ment, his wounded foot entirely forgotten. 

A cannon ball crashed through the clump of 
bare-limbed trees into which the British scout- 
ing party had disappeared a few moments pre- 
viously. 

^^One more for those in the road,’^ cried Sam- 
uel Smith, a cannon ball in his two hands. “We 
must let them know we’re attending to busi- 
ness.” 

After this shot the British withdrew to a spot 
a hundred yards farther down the Post Road. 
Plainly they were worried. 

“That’s only the advance guard,” said Pro- 
fessor Houston. “It looks to me as if they were 
planning to wait for reenforcements to come up. 
You see they have no artillery with them. The 
others will be along presently with some bat- 
270 


AT THE HEAD OF THE STREET 


teries, and first they 11 bombard us and then 
they 11 rush us. I should say that this is an ex- 
cellent time to leave. ^ ^ 

‘H^m having such a good time/’ Samuel 
Smith protested. 

know,” Professor Houston agreed, ^‘but 
let’s reason it out. We’ve already held them up 
for some time. Evidently they’re not going to 
do anything until more of their men come up 
and, that means a further delay. When the re- 
enforcements do arrive they won’t dare attack 
at once, so that, taking everything into consid- 
eration, we shall have delayed them nearly an 
hour. We can’t expect to do better than that, 
and while I’m not afraid to die if I have to I 
really can’t see anything to be gained by it in 
this instance.” 

John and Samuel Smith were standing beside 
the pile of cannon balls, Samuel Smith holding 
one of them in his hands. 

think you’re right. Professor Houston,” 
said J ohn. ^ ‘ Let ’s go. ’ ’ 

think that’s the thing to do,” said Ed- 
ward. 

^^And I,” Mr. Spence agreed. 

Every one looked at Samuel Smith. 

271 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

^‘Oh, you’re right of course,” he exclaimed. 
^‘But I do hate to leave. You know I never 
expected that I would be one of a party of five 
to hold up the whole British Army. Don’t for- 
get to tell his lordship about it, ’ ’ he said, turn- 
ing to the two prisoners. 

‘‘You’ll hang for this some day,” said one 
of them curtly. 

“My dear fellow,” laughed Samuel Smith, 
“there’s an old saying around this part of the 
country that if you are going to have rabbit 
stew it is necessary to catch your rabbit first.” 

He turned around, still chuckling to himself, 
and tossed the cannon ball back onto the pile. 
As it fell it dislodged two others and the three 
of them rolled down to the ground. John was 
standing right in their path. Edward shouted a 
warning at him, but before he could move one of 
the heavy iron missiles had crashed with con- 
siderable force against his wounded left foot. 

He uttered a sharp cry of pain and sank to 
the ground. Pains seemed to shoot straight up 
his leg, through his body to his brain, where 
they exploded in a shower of sparks. Then his 
head felt fuzzy, black spots danced before his 
eyes and he lost consciousness. 

272 


CHAPTER XXII 


AN OLD FEIEND 

When John opened his eyes again he was lying 
in bed, his head on a soft pillow, cool sheets in 
contact with his body. Silken curtains hung at 
the windows of the room where he found him- 
self, a thick blue carpet covered the floor, there 
were pretty chairs in the room and a mahogany 
highboy against the wall. He had not the least 
idea where he was. 

He had forgotten all that had happened to 
him, forgotten that he was wounded, and he de- 
cided to get out of bed to investigate his sur- 
roundings. When he tried to move, however, 
a stab of pain in his left foot quickly brought 
his hurt back to mind, and in a flash he remem- 
bered everything that had taken place up to the 
moment of his losing consciousness. He re- 
membered the earthworks, the British Army 
drawn up on the Post Road, the two prisoners, 
and the cannon ball striking his foot. But what 
had happened to him since f 
273 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

His head felt light and he decided that he must 
have a fever. Perhaps he had been seriously ill 
and weeks had passed since that memorable 
third of January. Could it be that he had been 
taken prisoner? He decided that was impossi- 
ble, for he knew that the British did not put 
their prisoners in soft four-posted beds, in 
rooms filled with mahogany furniture with soft 
silken curtains at the windows. 

He closed his eyes again, for it made his head 
ache to think. He dozed olf to sleep. Later he 
awoke feeling greatly refreshed, his brain had 
cleared, and he noticed that the room was grow- 
ing dark. He strained his ears for any sound 
that might give him a clew to his whereabouts. 
A branch of a tree outside the window creaked 
dismally, but otherwise all was silent. John 
considered calling out, but not knowing what 
house he was in or who owned it, he decided it 
was unwise. 

He lay quietly and went over in his mind the 
crowded events of the few days preceding the 
battle at Princeton. It seemed to him as if he 
had lived a lifetime in that short period. The 
crossing of the Delaware and the fight at Tren- 
ton on Christmas night seemed centuries past. 

274 


AN OLD FEIEND 


He remembered Fleetmann’s death in the icy 
river and somehow it seemed unreal. Could it 
be true that such a thing had actually hap- 
pened! Could it be that all the events of those 
busy days had really taken place! What had 
become of Robinson, he wondered. He decided 
that no doubt he had joined the British army as 
soon as the Continentals had left their position 
on the south bank of the Assunpinck. 

He wondered what had become of Edward and 
Thomas and Professor Houston and Samuel 
Smith. He worried about Arthur Tryon, fear- 
ful lest in his scouting expedition he had fallen 
into the hands of the redcoats ; possibly he was 
at that moment languishing in one of the prison 
ships in New York Harbor. Or perhaps he was 
only on his way to New York; it all depended 
upon how long a time had elapsed since he had 
fainted there behind the earthworks. 

A step sounded on the stairs outside the door. 
Some one was approaching. John held his 
breath and waited ; beads of perspiration broke 
out on his forehead, evidence of his weakened 
state of health. The footsteps came along the 
hall and paused in front of the door opening 
into the room where he was lying. Who was it! 
275 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

The door knob turned and the door opened on 
a crack. Then it opened further. J ohn lay per- 
fectly quiet. The door opened still wider and 
John saw that it was a woman standing there. 

‘‘Mrs. Leonard.’’ 

“John,” she exclaimed eagerly. “So you’re 
awake at last.” 

She threw open the door and walked rapidly 
to the side of the bed. 

“You are awake at last,” she cried. “I am 
so glad.” 

“How long have I been asleep?” demanded 
John, overjoyed to see his good friend Mrs. 
Leonard again, and consumed with curiosity to 
know how it had all come about. 

“Ever since they brought you here.” 

“To your house?” 

“Yes.” 

“When did they bring me here?” 

‘ ‘ Three days ago. ’ ’ 

“You mean to say,” exclaimed John, “that I 
have been asleep for three days ? ’ ’ 

“Asleep or delirious. You know, John, you 
are wounded and you had had practically no 
rest for two whole days before the battle. You 
were tired enough to sleep for nearly two days, 
276 


AN OLD FRIEND 


I guess, and you Ve had a violent fever beside.’’ 

“How bad is my wound?” 

“It became infected. That farmer from 
Maidenhead, Samuel Smith, told me that he 
changed your boot, but he left your stocking on 
and the wound was never cleansed.” 

“Where is Samuel now? ’ ’ asked John eagerly. 

“He brought you here,” said Mrs. Leonard, 
“and then when he saw that you were in a bad 
state and weren’t going to be able to move, he 
left to rejoin the army.” 

“Tell me what happened,” John begged. 

“Samuel Smith and Edward Nash arrived 
here on the third of January, about noon, car- 
rying you, ’ ’ said Mrs. Leonard. ‘ ‘ I had thought 
the battle was all over, although I had heard 
three cannon shots and some scattered mus- 
ketry fire just a little while before you ar- 
rived. ’ ’ 

“I guess we were responsible for that.” 

‘ ‘ So Samuel Smith said. I can tell you I was 
startled to see you being carried in here limp 
and unconscious. We got you right upstairs 
and put you to bed, bathed your foot and made 
you as comfortable as we could. Of course we 
couldn’t get a doctor, but Samuel Smith was 
277 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

about as good as any doctor I ever saw. As 
soon as be bad done everything be could for 
you, be and Edward went back to tbe earth- 
works at the bead of tbe street to see what tbe 
British were doing. 

‘^Were they captured!’’ demanded John in 
alarm. 

Mrs. Leonard laughed. Bless you, no,” she 
said. told you that Samuel Smith bad gone 
on to rejoin bis regiment. General Washing- 
ton struck for Morristown, I believe, after leav- 
ing Princeton. Edward also went off after tbe 
army with Samuel Smith, and I doubt if they 
bad any trouble, for Cornwallis went right on to 
Brunswick. Well, as I was saying, tbe two of 
them went back to tbe Post Eoad to see what 
tbe British were doing. They returned in about 
an hour, both almost convulsed with laughter. 
It seems they bid in a clump of evergreen 
bushes, in a spot where they bad a clear view 
of tbe earthworks. 

^ ‘ Tbe British had turned their cannon on the 
fortifications, and after a sharp bombardment a 
whole regiment of infantry rushed them, bayo- 
nets fixed. Of course there was nobody there 
to oppose them, and Samuel Smith and Edward 
278 


AN OLD FRIEND 

both said it was the funniest sight they had ever 
witnessed to see their consternation when they 
discovered how they had been tricked. ’ ’ 

^‘It must have been/^ said John. wish I 
might have been there to see it myself. ^ ’ 

‘^The whole British army was delayed for 
over an hourj^ said Mrs. Leonard. ^^How an- 
gry Lord Cornwallis must have been.’’ 

‘‘Was there any more fighting in Princeton?” 
“No. They hurried right on through the 
village in pursuit of General Washington, stop- 
ping for nothing. Princeton has been deserted 
the past two days and quiet as the grave.” 

“You haven’t minded that, I imagine,” said 
John with a smile. “What has become of Pro- 
fessor Houston?” 

“I haven’t seen him, and don’t know whether 
he is here or not. Aren’t you hungry?” 

“Yes,” said John. “Hungry as an Indian.” 
“Of course you are,” cried Mrs. Leonard. 
“Here I’ve been standing and talking to you 
and you must be famished. Please forgive me. ’ ’ 
“What you have had to say is much better 
than food, ’ ’ said J ohn. ‘ ‘ But I am hungry. ’ ’ 
“I’ll have supper for you in a few minutes.” 
Mrs. Leonard hurried out of the room and 
279 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

John heard her descending the stairs. So Gen- 
eral Washington had escaped Cornwallis and 
got away to Morristown. What wonderful 
news. The colonies would surely rally to his 
support now, and if no further battles had to be 
fought that winter Washington would have an 
opportunity to build up a real army, one that 
inspired by the victories at Trenton and Prince- 
ton would furnish worthy opposition to the 
British regulars when springtime came. The 
thought of it made him happy. 

In a few moments Mrs. Leonard returned, 
bearing a tall lighted candle in each hand, and 
set them on the highboy. 

“Your supper will be right up,’’ she said. 
“I feel very proud now having a servant after 
being without help of any kind for so many 
months. ’ ’ 

She spread a napkin over the coverlet and 
propped the young soldier up in bed with two 
pillows. His foot hurt him every time he 
moved, and he felt shaky and weak. It was 
good to be in a clean white bed again, how- 
ever, and in his beloved village of Princeton, 
so that whatever physical discomforts he suf- 
fered gave him little concern. 

280 


AN OLD FRIEND 


A step on the stairs announced the coming 
of supper and presently a man stood in the 
doorway, a tray laden with food in his hands. 

‘‘Why, Tom,” exclaimed John. “You 
here ? ^ ^ 

“Yassuh,” said Tom, grinning from ear to 
ear. “Ah^s had enuff oh dis yere army life. 
Ah^s through wif it.” 

“You’re working for Mrs. Leonard, are you? 
What about Mr. Hunt? Aren’t you going hack 
to him?” 

“If Ah’s dragged hack Ah’s goin’,” said 
Tom. “But Ah prefer to stay right chere.” 

“You’re going to remain here too,” said Mrs. 
Leonard. “It’ll be several weeks, in my opin- 
ion, before you’re able to move about much.” 

“But my regiment,” John protested. “I 
must get back to it.” 

“Do you remember a letter I wrote you, say- 
ing that a sick soldier is more of a hindrance 
than a help?” 

“Yes,” said John. “I remember.” 

“Well, it’s true. Eat your supper and stop 
worrying.” 


281 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 

Two weeks elapsed before John was able to 
leave the house. When he did sally forth he 
was obliged to walk with a cane, and Tom went 
along with him, to furnish assistance in case of 
need. They walked out one morning in the 
direction of Nassau Hall, for that was the place 
John loved best in all the world, and he was 
eager to see what damage it had suffered from 
the bombardment. 

As they passed The Sign of the College, 
Christopher Beekman, the proprietor, spied 
John and hurried out to greet him. 

heard you were wounded,’^ he said. 

‘‘Not badly,’’ said John. “But it’s a nui- 
sance. ’ ’ 

“You want to get back to the army, I sup- 
pose?” 

“Indeed I do.” 

“A friend of mine from Morristown rode 
through here this morning. He reports that 
282 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


the army has gone into winter quarters there 
and that it seems improbable there will be any 
further fighting before spring/’ 

‘^That will help us,” said John. ‘‘I wonder 
if your friend has by any chance some news of 
Edward Nash or Samuel Smith.” 

‘‘Why, yes,” said Mr. Beekman. “He said 
he had seen Samuel Smith and that a young 
student from Nassau Hall was sharing his quar- 
ters with him.” 

“That must be Edward,” cried John eagerly. 
“Did he say how they were?” 

“No, he didn’t, but I suppose if they weren’t 
well he would have mentioned it. He said some- 
thing about them though. Let’s see. Why, yes, 
he said they were being transferred to General 
Sullivan’s division, and they are coming to 
Princeton, you know.” 

“What!” 

“Yes, I understand that General Sullivan 
and about fifteen hundred men are to be quar- 
tered here till spring. ’ ’ 

“That’s wonderful news, Mr. Beekman,” cried 
John. “When are they coming? Do you know?” 

“Almost any day, I believe. The village has 
certainly seemed dead without any soldiers 
283 


A PRINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

here. I shall be glad to see them back so long 
as they are Continentals. It will also help busi- 
ness/’ and Christopher Beekman smiled a 
happy smile. 

‘‘True enough,” said John. “I should think 
you might have difficulty in getting food these 
days though. It is certainly scarce around 
here.” 

“That is a difficulty,” the innkeeper ad- 
mitted. “It is practically impossible to find 
supplies near Princeton, but I was fortunate 
enough to be able to make arrangements with 
a man over in Pennsylvania to furnish me with 
most of what I need. I made the arrangements 
back before Christmas on the chance that some- 
thing like this might come about.” 

“You are very forehanded.” 

“One must be if he is to succeed in this 
world,” said Christopher Beekman. “It isn’t 
only the early bird who gets the worm, but the 
bird who knows where to go, and lays his plans 
in advance.” 

“Right you are,” said John with a laugh. 
“There is more food in Pennsylvania than in 
Jersey then?” 

“Indeed there is. Pennsylvania thus far has 
284 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


not been honored with so many British and 
Hessians as we have had over here, and the 
English and Germans are both good eaters, yon 
know. Of course the food will have to be fer- 
ried across the Delaware and brought across 
country to Princeton in carts and that will be 
expensive, but my prices will be too.’’ The 
innkeeper smiled another happy smile. 

‘‘Yes,” he continued, “the food will come 
from a place just across the river from Tren- 
ton. Right close to where our army was en- 
camped before the raid on the Hessians. One 
of our Princeton men carried on the negotia- 
tions for me. You know him, of course, a man 
with a queer, high-pitched voice ” 

J ohn started violently. 

“Robinson, the old steward over at the col- 
lege. ’ ’ 

John’s jaw dropped. The first thought that 
flashed into his mind was of the slip of paper 
Edward had picked up from the ground after 
the fight that day on the river bank. It had 
undoubtedly fallen from Robinson’s pocket, 
and John remembered that it had stated some- 
thing about making satisfactory arrangements 
and securing information, and now he wondered 
285 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 


if those words could have referred to the busi- 
ness Eobinson was contracting for Christopher 
Beekman. It was entirely possible. 

^‘Excuse me,’’ said Mr. Beekman suddenly. 
‘‘Some one wants me inside. Stop in and see 
me when you’re going by.” 

“Thanks,” said John automatically. He was 
too stunned to think and the innkeeper’s words 
had caused him the greatest shock he had suf- 
fered in weeks. 

Could it be that after all Eobinson was not a 
spy! Captain Eobbins had sworn that Fleet- 
mann was one of the most loyal soldiers in the 
Continental Army, so he was eliminated from 
the trio they had suspected. Unless — and the 
thought caused John to start — ^unless Fleet- 
mann had not been drowned as every one had 
supposed, and Captain Eobbins had been en- 
tirely fooled by him. That was a possibility. 
But if he had been drowned and Eobinson was 
innocent, that left only Arthur Tryon. He was 
the only one left with the kind of voice the spy 
undoubtedly had. The thought was preposter- 
ous. J ohn was confident that Arthur was a loyal 
patriot, and besides there was another point 
that established his innocence beyond all ques- 
286 


THE MYSTEEY DEEPENS 


tion. The spy had followed John on his jour- 
ney to Basking Eidge. There was no room for 
doubt about that, and Arthur had been seen in 
camp the very day that John had hidden in the 
haystack at the home of Mr. Van Pelt. 

The tangle seemed to grow worse. know 
it^s Eobinson,’^ John said to himself. Un- 
less ’’ Could it be possible that Fleetmann 

was still alive! 

Let’s move on, Tom,” he said. 

‘‘Yo’ all seems worried,” said Tom. 

‘‘Puzzled,” John corrected. 

“Yassuh,” said Tom. It is doubtful if he 
knew the meaning of the word. 

They came to Nassau Hall and made a tour 
of inspection of the exterior. The bombard- 
ment had done some damage, of course, but it 
was not so serious that it would not be fairly 
easy to repair. The rear of the building had 
evidently been the principal object of the cannon- 
eers, and in places stones had been loosened and 
the glass in many windows had been shattered. 

They went inside. The damage there was 
greater, and as no attempt apparently had been 
made to repair it, the effects were still in evi- 
dence. The students’ rooms had been rifled of 
287 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE KEVOLUTION 

their contents, the walls had been defaced, rub- 
bish was scattered all about the stone floors 
and things were in the utmost confusion. The 
college library had been almost entirely re- 
moved, and the cases stripped of books.^ This 
was a sight which caused John particular dis- 
tress, for he knew how hard President Wither- 
spoon, and Presidents Finley, Davies, Edwards 
and Burr who had preceded him, had worked 
to collect the volumes. A college without books 
is like a ship without a rudder. And John loved 
books; each one represents untold labor, and 
they contain all the best of the world’s thought. 
Much of the progress that mankind has made is 
due to books. They are possessions to be prized, 
and any one who will steal them is a particu- 
larly low type of thief. 

In the prayer hall the damage Nassau Hall 
had suffered was particularly apparent. Can- 
non balls had crashed through the windows and 
ripped great holes in the walls. Splintered 
wood, plaster and glass were strewn every- 
where, and most of the furniture had been bat- 
tered to bits. 

^‘Look at dat, Mistah Stirling,” exclaimed 


1 Some of them were found later in North Carolina. 
288 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


Tom, standing before one of the portraits which 
had adorned the walls. ‘‘Dat was suttinly a 
good shot. He done took his hade right off. ^ ^ 

A cannon ball had cut the head off the por- 
trait of King George the Second. The ball had 
torn a round hole right through the canvas, and 
instead of a head appearing on the shoulders 
of the former king of England, there was a 
blank hole. 

‘‘Well, I declare,’’ exclaimed John in amaze- 
ment. “That certainly was a good shot.” 

“Dat’s de king, ain’t it?” asked Tom. 

“He used to be king,” said John. “The 
present king is George the Third; that is a 
portrait of George, the Second.” 

“Well, Ah believes dat’s an omen sho’ nuff,” 
said Tom earnestly. “Dat means de English 
is boun’ ter be beat.” 

“You think so, Tom?” said John with a 
smile. 

“Ah feels sure ob it. W’en de ’Mericans can 
shoot de hade right offen de king’s pitcher dat 
means dey’s goin’ win de war. Ah doan keer 
wot king it is. Dey done shot his hade off an’ 
dat is wot counts.” 

“I hope you’re right,” laughed John. 

289 


CHAPTER XXIV 


CONCLUSION 

Two days later General Sullivan marched into 
Princeton with fifteen hundred men, as Chris- 
topher Beekman had predicted. J ohn had 
passed most of these two days in trying to puz- 
zle out in his mind the solution of the mystery 
which had been worrying him and his friends 
for nearly seven months. 

But he had little success. One moment he 
was convinced that Robinson was guilty, the 
next he was certain of his innocence. He tried 
to fasten the guilt on Arthur Try on, but he 
could not escape the fact of Arthur’s presence 
in camp when the spy had been at Basking 
Ridge. That alone was sufficient to absolve 
Arthur. His final conclusion was that Pleet- 
mann must still be alive, that he had jumped 
into the Delaware purposely, and instead of 
being drowned had in reality been the man whom 
Tom had seen on two different occasions at the 
home of Mr. Hunt. This seemed to him the 
290 


CONCLUSION 


only possible solution after two days of think- 
ing about it, and John accepted it. It must be 
admitted, however, that he did so reluctantly, 
for he still felt that Eobinson had some things 
to explain. 

When the soldiers marched up The King’s 
Highway into the village, J ohn and his faithful 
attendant, Tom, were waiting for them in front 
of The Sign of the College, It was at this point 
that the army broke ranks and the men were 
assigned to the quarters they were to occupy. 
Nassau Hall and the Presbyterian Church were 
the principal barracks, but these buildings were 
not sufficiently large to shelter them all, and 
large numbers of them were allotted to houses 
throughout the village. 

John kept a sharp lookout for Edward and 
Samuel Smith and presently he ’spied them. 
They seemed to be looking for some one them- 
selves. John limped towards them as fast as 
he could, and a moment later they had met. 
Needless to say their greetings were hearty and 
enthusiastic. 

‘Ht is the best fortune I can imagine having 
you back here at Princeton,” cried John. 
‘‘What a piece of luck it is.” 

291 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE EEVOLUTION 

^‘Not all luck/’ said Samuel Smith. ‘‘We 
heard that General Sullivan’s division was to be 
stationed here and we immediately applied for 
a transfer.” 

“Where is Thomas'? Still in Morristown, I 
suppose?” 

“ Yes, ” said Edward. ‘ ‘ He applied too late. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What about Arthur ? ’ ’ 

“He is here.” 

“When did he rejoin the army?” 

‘ ‘ Some time during the battle here at Prince- 
ton,” said Samuel Smith. “Edward and I were 
left behind, you know, and we didn’t catch up 
with the army until they had reached Morris- 
town. You see, we went out to watch the Brit- 
ish storm the earthworks,” Samuel Smith 
laughed heartily, “and we delayed so long that 
Cornwallis got in between us and our own army. 
Luckily the British didn’t follow General Wash- 
ington much farther than Kingston, but turned 
off towards Brunswick. That cleared the way 
for us and we had no trouble at all on the road 
to Morristown.” 

“Quite different from my experience,” 
laughed J ohn. 


292 


CONCLUSION 


Quite different/^ Samuel Smith agreed. 
‘‘Whereas Tom I Is he still in Princeton 

‘‘Yes, indeed, said John. “He was with me 
just a minute ago, hut he saw some men with 
musical instruments and he had to follow them. 
He can’t resist music.” 

“I’m afraid he won’t hear much to-day,” 
laughed Edward. “Our men are too tired to 
play.” 

“Have you heard anything of Eobinson?” 
demanded Samuel Smith suddenly. “What has 
become of him?” 

“I don’t know I’m sure,” said John. “1 
haven’t seen a sign of him or heard anything of 
his whereabouts, but I heard something about 
him.” He related what Christopher Beekman 
had told him, and then went on to tell of his 
attempts to find a solution of the mystery. 
Samuel Smith and Edward both agreed that 
improbable as it seemed there was a possibihty 
that John’s theory about Fleetmann still being 
alive was correct. 

“If he did jump overboard and get ashore 
safely in that icy water he must be given credit 
for nerve, at any rate,” said Edward. 

293 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

‘‘Nerve is one tiling a spy must have/’ said 
Samuel Smith. “Iron nerve. Here comes Ar- 
thur,” he exclaimed. 

John turned to find Arthur Try on just behind 
him, his lips parted in a wide smile, his hand 
outstretched. 

“Hello, John,” he exclaimed cordially. “It 
is a welcome sight to see you again and to find 
you looking so well. We did worry about your 
wound, you know. I hope it is rapidly healing. ’ ’ 

“Improving steadily, thank you,” said John. 
“How are you?” 

“Never better. Isn’t it wonderful for us all 
to be back here in Princeton again?” 

“I think so,” said John. “I’ve been fright- 
fully lonesome.” 

“And I am frightfully thirsty,” said Samuel 
Smith. ‘ ‘ I suggest that we all retire to the tap- 
room of the Hudihras. It won’t be so crowded 
there. ’ ’ 

This suggestion met with unanimous approval 
and the four friends were soon headed east 
along the village street. All the townspeople 
were out to welcome the soldiers, and the thor- 
oughfare was thronged. It was a happy crowd, 
too, and if there were ^ny persons still remain- 
294 


CONCLUSION 

ing in Princeton with Tory sympathies they 
took good care to keep off The King’s High- 
way. 

Many acquaintances stopped the four sol- 
diers, to shake hands with them and welcome 
them back to Princeton. Consequently their 
progress was slow, but they were enjoying it 
all every minute. Professor Houston was one 
of those to greet them. He had hidden away in 
a neighboring barn after leaving the earthworks 
that third of J anuary, and had since been stay- 
ing with relatives at Eocky HilU three miles 
away. He had followed General Sullivan’s 
army into Princeton. 

^‘Why, there’s Tom,” cried Samuel Smith 
suddenly. ‘‘Tom, how are you? Did you hear 
any music?” 

“No, suh. No, suh,” said Tom, his black 
face split by a grin that seemed to spread from 
ear to ear. “How do you do, Mistah Smif ?” 

His glance spread to the others of the group 
and suddenly the smile seemed to freeze on his 
face. His jaw dropped, he started back and his 
eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of 
his head. 


1 Later Washington’s headquarters for several months. 

295 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 

^^WhaUs the matter demanded John in 
alarm. He followed the negro ’s glance. It was 
directed at Arthur Tryon. 

Tom gulped hard and seemed to he trying to 
speak. He raised his finger and pointed it at 
Arthur. 

‘ ‘ Dat ’s de man I ’ ^ he cried. 

‘‘What man? What do you mean?’’ de- 
manded John. 

“Mistah Hunt,” stammered Tom. He 
seemed unable to say more. 

All eyes turned to Arthur. His face had sud- 
denly grown livid, and his lips were drawn 
hack over his white teeth in an ugly snarl. He 
sprang hack and his hand reached for the pis- 
tol in his belt. Before he could draw it Samuel 
Smith had leaped upon him, thrown both arms 
around his body and held him in a grip of steel. 
Arthur fought like a wild man and strong as 
he was Samuel Smith had difficulty in holding 
him prisoner. 

The others had been too stunned to move, 
but suddenly the significance of Tom’s words 
sank into their consciousness. In less than a 
moment of time Arthur had been disarmed and 
was held helpless in their hands. 

296 


CONCLUSION 


That evening J ohn, Edward and Samuel 
Smith were seated in Mrs. Leonardos drawing 
room talking over the events of the day. 

‘‘You say that papers were found on him 
which establish his guilt without the shadow 
of a doubt r’ asked John. 

“No question about it whatsoever/’ said 
Samuel Smith. “He is a spy in the pay of the 
British and has been for at least eight months.” 

John was silent for a moment. “What are 
they going to do with him?” he inquired finally. 

“What usually happens to spies?” said Sam- 
uel Smith. 

John shivered slightly and no one in the room 
spoke for several minutes. The tall clock in 
the corner ticked off the seconds and it seemed 
to John an ominous sound, as if it were an- 
nouncing the approach of doom. 

“There’s one thing I can’t understand,” he 
said. “How is it that if Arthur is the spy, he 
was in camp the day I was hiding in the hay- 
stack at Mr. Van Pelt’s?” 

“Do you remember the day you had the fight 
with Kobinson on the river bank?” asked Ed- 
ward. 

“Of course I do.” 


297 


A PEINCETON BOY IN THE REVOLUTION 


Do you remember my telling you of having 
spoken to a man in camp, thinking he was 
Arthur r’ 

A light seemed to flash into John^s brain. 
^‘Yes,’^ he cried eagerly, leaning forward. 
^‘Go on.” 

‘HsnT it possible,” said Edward, ^^that we 
mistook that same man for Arthur before, and 
that Arthur really wasnT in camp that day at 
all!” 

‘^Why, thaUs what happened, of course,” 
cried John. ‘‘How stupid IVe been not to have 
thought of that before.” 

“I reckon Edward has the right answer,” 
said Samuel Smith. “I think I can explain 
about Robinson. Have you heard about him!” 

“No,” cried John. “What!” 

“He’s crazy.” 

“What do you mean!” 

“He’s crazy. Plumb out of his mind.” 

“And you think he^s been that way for some 
time!” 

‘ ‘ Sure of it, ’ ’ said Samuel Smith. ‘ ‘ How else 
can you account for his shooting at you the day 
you were in the canoe, and all the other strange 
things he did!” 


298 


CONCLUSION 


The door of the drawing room opened and 
Mrs. Leonard entered with a tray on which 
there were fonr glasses. The three friends 
sprang to their feet. 

‘‘If I may interrupt a moment,’’ said Mrs. 
Leonard, passing the tray to each of them, “I 
should like to propose a toast.” 

She set the tray on a table, took the remain- 
ing glass in her hand and turned towards J ohn 
Stirling, Edward Nash and Samuel Smith. 
They raised their glasses. 

“General Washington land The College of 
New Jersey,” said Mrs. Leonard. 


299 



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